Code Geass: ALL BLANK
by Guilty Bird
Summary: DROPPED.
1. Still Waiting

Commentary

Hi, readers. I wasn't very happy with how this chapter ended up, but please feel free to comment and criticize. _Constructive criticism_ please, no bashing.

This fanfic was inspired by Lelouch's sacrifice; I wondered, what would have happened if his death hadn't worked exactly the way he'd thought it had? What if the next emperor was able to bring the empire back together?

The fates of Zero, Nunnally, Kallen, etc., will be revealed as the story goes on. Please bear with me.

Also, the titles will all be songs that have the mood that I thought the story should've had. I didn't exactly screen the lyrics, so bear in mind it's just the melody. They're all decent songs, I hope. If there are any good songs that you'd suggest for my story, please feel free to tell me. I'll be using a mixture of American + Asian songs (asian songs tend to be more dramatic).

Prologue

_I can hear it. The voice is calling for me. It rings loudly, piercing the lethal white silence that is enveloping me, and the entire world. _

_And I think…_

_It doesn't bring solitude, does it?_

_Because—_

--

_August 10, 2044 a.t.b._

_Thirty-four years after the nation of Japan was invaded, and twenty-five years after it was liberated, the Holy Empire of Britannia prepared to go to war once more. Since the assassination of the abhorred 99__th__ emperor of Britannia, peace had come to the entire world. The small island nation, although allied with the United Federation of Nations, had come to be an independent—and formidable—force. Relations between the two powers had become affable, mostly due to the close friendship between the Princess Nunnally vi Britannia, and the hero of Japan, the ambiguous Zero. However, with the inexplicable disappearances of Princess Nunnally and Zero in 2026, and the ascension of the new emperor, Britannia eventually withdrew from its pacts of non-aggression, alarming the rest of the world. Perhaps the 100__th__ emperor of Britannia, having lost so much of his power, just wanted to take the nation back once more._

_--_

Chapter One: Still Waiting

_Sum-41_

Fenleigh could hear the sounds of cities crumbling, the unrelenting explosions of guns, and the distant death cries of the crushed. Blood, both that of the enemy and of his allies, splattered streets now devoid of life.

"Is everything alright, Unit B-2?" The monitor in his Vincent revealed that the captain of the squad was addressing him. "I couldn't reach you for a while."

"Temporary technical problems, sir." He said, skillfully dodging a slash harken by a Zedbug about fifty meters away.

"These 7th generation frames are outdated." The captain sighed. "This is what happens when we relax weaponry development. Alright. Continue."

"Yes, sir." He said, destroying the Zedbug with a slash harken on his hip, as the direct link terminated, and was replaced by the public channel. He looked at the map. Most of the significant buildings had been destroyed, and their remains covered the ground. Nevertheless, their Britannian forces were slowly being destroyed, while Japanese forces gained the upper hand. It was, after all, their native land.

The friend-or-foe system beeped, and he zoomed in on the map, seeing two Zangetsu hurtling towards him. He quickly gave ground, using the time to change his weapon into a maser vibration sword.

"Britannians!" A voice roared out over the public channel. "How dare you go against your word?" Suddenly changing directions, Fenleigh tore through the air towards them, and plunged the sword through the first frame. Before it exploded, he shoved it further towards the second frame, causing both Knightmares to explode. Seeing the second frame's pilot auto eject, he cut through it, hearing the man—no, woman, scream. Immediately after, the system let out an urgent alarm, reflecting light onto his cold grey eyes. A grid popped up on his screen, indicating that there were five more enemy frames heading straight for him.

"Oh?" He said, turning to face them. It appeared that he was popular. Coming in from all directions, he spotted two Zedbugs, one Zangetsu, and one Gladius. His mind flickering through possible escapes, he rapidly descended towards the ground, and switched his weapon to a varis.

"What are you plotting now, Vincent?" A voice said in a sneering tone. "There's no way out of this one, you bastard."

Zooming in on the map, he spotted a Japanese family huddled inside a crumbling building. They had taken cover in a poor location. Gaining speed, he crashed into the ground, causing a tremor that rang through the nearby buildings. Two of the people, losing their balance, fell to the ground fifty feet below. Screaming in terror, they flung their arms out, as if doing so would prevent their deaths. He'd noticed that human beings did that a lot. Even with death right at their doors, they never believed that their time had come. Because—how could it be them?

Scooping up the remaining people still inside the building, he held them up towards the incoming enemy frames. Struggling to be free from his grasp, they started screaming obscene curses toward him, which he filtered out. As if fouling the air would help their predicament.

"Do you really think that will stop us?" A quiet voice came over the channel.

"Britannian scum! Holding civilians hostage!" A second voice growled. The pale blue Zangetsu took a step forward as this was spoken, indicating that its devicer was the accuser.

"Hostage?" His voice rang out. "Not at all." To demonstrate his point, he raised each struggling body, and flung them at the frames. Rearing back in shock, three of the frames reached towards the bodies, attempting to save them. Raising his varis, he rapidly shot them while they were distracted. Meanwhile, the Gladius and one of the Zedbugs ignored the bodies—actually flinging it out of the way in the Gladius' case—as they headed straight for his frame.

They won't use their cannons, Fenleigh ascertained. If they miss, they might end up destroying each other, the structures of their own city, and more of their civilians. But while he was preoccupied shooting the other three, the remaining two had reached him. Grunting with the effort, he activated his beam shields (it was a good thing that these Vincents had been recently modified to accommodate shields). The bright light gleaming throughout the darkness of the debris, the Zedbug and the Gladius set to work destroying his shields.

These won't last long, he thought, gritting his teeth. This Vincent is out-of-date compared to these brand new models… Suddenly, his system beeped again; another two frames were joining the fight against him.

"Why am I becoming prioritized, here?" He muttered out loud. Mind racing, he released his shields, and shot up towards the air, hoping to escape before the other two arrived. He looked behind; the four Knightmares all stood stock still. What was going on here? Why wasn't he being—

A blast rocked through his Vincent, jerking him backwards.

"What the—?" Returning his attention to the field around him, he noticed that a fellow Britannian Vincent model had just attacked him. "Who are you? What's your unit?" He demanded, preparing to eject from his pod.

"No unit," a male voice said clearly over the link. He scanned the damage done to his unit, and checked his energy filler. There was only enough to last about five more minutes, even if he chose to continue the fight. Not being suicidal, he ejected.

So had the Japanese gotten a hold over several Britannian frames? It was unlikely that the Britannian fleet could've been infiltrated in such a short amount of time; nor was there any reason for the Japanese to have wanted such antique Britannian frames. The fact that this Vincent was in relatively pristine condition indicated that a pilot had been coerced into giving up their frame. So did that mean that Britannian forces had been infiltrated? No—he had quickly reviewed the histories of recent recruits, and weeded out suspicious figures. Then, had they jumped the pilot before he could get in? Tricked him into leaving his frame?

Extricating himself from the ejector, Fenleigh looked at his surroundings. Broken buildings, broken people—he was somewhere in the middle of the city. There was a small fire nearby, bright orange and red flickering through chunks of cement. There was a strange acrid smell in the air; he covered his nose, and walked away from the source of smell. Just as he moved away from a still-standing building, a huge Knightmare frame—a Sutherland—dropped from the air, slamming through the roof of the building. He heard several earsplitting screams, which were quickly silenced.

Overhead, he saw that some of the news stations were actually still reporting the battle, and saw the fighting unfold on a huge screen several hundreds of feet up in the air. He watched as the stolen Vincent began a battle with a Freedom NL-44—a Britannian Ninth Age frame, one of the last frames to be officially developed in Britannia. Ironically, it had been made for Princess Nunnally vi Britannia, who had opposed violence. But then, the cruelty of her brother, the infamous 99th emperor of Britannia, must have had some influence on her. The Freedom NL-44 had been specifically designed so that its primary focus was defense, rather than attack. It was not a very popular frame in the military, and had subsided into being used for mainly diplomatic situations. The fact that it was being used in the battle revealed the diminishing resources of the Britannian army.

The Freedom eventually won, outmaneuvering the stolen Vincent, and destroying it with its MVS. Fenleigh closed his eyes. Seeing the triumphant Britannian Knightmares, he felt inexplicable warmth in his chest. He felt the glory of the Britannian Empire, shining brighter than any other nation on earth. And one day, it would shine brighter than the sun itself. He reveled in the beauty of power that the Britannian forces radiated with.

But how, he wondered, Could he become a part of such brilliance?

He watched as the Vincent's pilot ejected, disappearing beyond a distant grey slab of broken building. The sun was setting.

"Hey, you!" He instantly tensed, having been caught off guard. "Hands up! Turn around!"

Hearing the animosity in their voices, he gathered that they were Japanese. He slowly turned around, and saw that he was right. Wearing black uniforms and holding sub-machine guns, five Japanese filed around to surround him. There were three men, and two women—no, rather boys and girls. They seemed scarcely older than him. One of the boys, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a green scarf, stepped forward, searching him for weaponry.

"He's clean." He declared, stepping back and joining the others. It was a rather depressing sight, Fenleigh silently felt. You could tell they were trying hard, but just the way they held their guns were awkward—and in the girls' case, completely wrong. Hurray for sexism, he thought.

"He's Britannian, but he's wearing civilian clothing." One of the girls, decent looking with no defining characteristics, said out loud. They were all wearing black and grey tops, and black bottomwear—pants for the males, and skirts for the females. The uniforms were strangely familiar; had he seen them before somewhere?

"Your name?" A male, looking older than the rest with slightly long blue-grey hair, looked at him kindly. That was ironic—a Japanese male feeling sympathy for _him_. No doubt that the boy felt that he was simply a kid who had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was technically true, anyways.

"Who cares when we're just going to kill him?" A tall boy with carefully gelled black hair said coldly, patting his SMG. Noticing that this particular boy had a little blood splattered over his pants, he had to wonder if any similar ambushes had occurred before.

"He's only a kid!" Decent-girl protested. "And remember what Zero used to say all the time—"

"Zero, Zero, Zero," Gel-boy said mockingly. "Tell me something new for once, won't you?" It felt decidedly weird, standing with his arms raised, while two of his persecutors had an argument. But then, he mused, It would be better for his survival to have their animosity directed away from himself.

"Zero rescued us from the Britannians," Decent-girl hissed, lowering her SMG as she stepped towards Gel-boy. "You have no right to hate him." Suddenly, Fenleigh recalled where he had seen the uniforms before; they had been the Black Knight uniforms, from the time when Zero was leading the terrorists against Britannia. Apparently, they were now being used as school uniforms.

"I don't hate him, I just think—"

"Enough of this crap," The other girl, with pigtails and blank eyes, said calmly, stepping between the two. "Look, even that Britannian is laughing at us. One minute in, and all we do is argue about some juvenile crap?"

"Who made you leader?" Gel-boy scowled, lowering his SMG as he spat at the ground.

"Who made you leader?" Pigtails shot back.

"Look, don't—"

Leaping forward, Fenleigh grabbed Decent-girl, who had been focused on the argument. Quickly punching her in the gut, he seized her SMG, and shot around him in a circle. His own frame jerking in the momentum, Scarf and Pigtails were immediately felled. How ironic, he thought, That a move straight out of a psychotic old Japanese movie would be used against them. Still, it did not seem to work as well for him as it had for Kiriyama. Outnumbered two to one—not counting Decent-girl—he swiftly began to run away in zigzags.

Having been caught off guard for only a second, Gel-boy and Blue-hair sprinted after him, screaming bloody murder. Focusing on running, he blindly shot at them. He was feeling better after he heard one of the boys roar with pain—when his SMG ran out of rounds. Frustrated, he threw it backwards in an attempt to slow down his remaining chaser: Gel-boy, by the sounds of it.

He suddenly felt an explosion near his left leg, and although he wasn't directly hit, the shock of it caused him to fall to the pebbled ground. The bodies that he had felled were now out of sight, and he was nearby what looked like the remains of a big parking lot. Layers and layers of concrete had caved in, and he could see a small hand lying sandwiched between the broken chunks. He heard heavy footsteps behind him accompanied with hoarse swearing, and struggled to get up. He managed to get to his feet, when he felt the unmistakable cold feeling of a gun being held of his head.

"Just give me one reason not to," Gel-boy whispered coldly, flicking the safety off of a hand gun. Not bothering with a cheesy comeback, Fenleigh twisted, batting the gun aside, and kicked upwards at the boy. Despite his stupid one-liners, however, Gel-boy evaded the kick, grabbed his leg, and firmly pointed the gun at his face. For a moment, they stared at each other, as if seeing each other for the first time.

"You can't shoot me, can you?" Fenleigh said, stalling for time. But of course he could. He'd seen the blood. Gel-boy's face twisted into a sneer, any doubt vanishing on the spot.

"Britannians must be dumber than I thought," Gel-boy said. "If they think we would give a damn about them." He pressed down on the trigger.

And he was…

Not quite at peace. But there was a sense of relief. The kind you got after class was over, and you realized that you could do whatever you wanted now—not that he had ever attended school, but that was the general feeling he got when he watched old movies.

What he did mattered now, his existence mattered now. It wasn't that the bullet slowed down for him; it was more as if his own thoughts sped up. Driving towards his forehead—a good shot, even if it was close-range—he felt a strange flare of emotion. Having felt nothing for years, it appeared as if his fast was finally over. To matter so little, to be so insignificant, that he would be shot down by a mere Japanese student? He had always waited for the day when the world, his empire, would notice him. Always one step behind, hidden by others. But always waiting for the one day where everything would change.

I guess, he thought resignedly, That day will never come.

But instead of a flash of pain, and imminent death, he felt a strange tingling sensation. The flicker of vehemence he had felt was now gone. It was replaced once more by the dull sense of neutrality that he had come to know so well. When he opened his eyes, he found to his surprise that he was in a large room, painted freshly white and unfurnished. He wouldn't be surprised if he saw a female child with long black hair sitting in a chair in the middle. Which would be disturbing, to tell the truth.

But no, he was by himself. And he was naked, to his bemusement. It wasn't cold, but he involuntarily shivered. He would've thought that when he was dead, he wouldn't have cared about such trivial matters—in fact, he hadn't actually ever thought about the afterlife. But here he was, and the only change he felt here was the frailty of being unclothed.

This must've been what Adam and Eve felt, he thought. If they existed. In fact, they probably didn't. After all, how could Eve have been made out of a single rib, for god's sake? Christian lunatics.

"You're not dead." A voice said from behind him. He whipped around. He was not alone, it seemed. A child lounged behind him, looking up at the ceiling as if he could see something. He appeared to be a young Britannian boy, maybe around eleven to twelve. The child, with dark hair lining his face, had the clearest violet eyes he had ever seen. Contrary to his own bareness, the boy was dressed in a white top and shorts. Strangely enough, his pure white shoes attracted the most attention. They were so small.

"I must be dead," He replied to the child. "I was thinking about religion."

"Christian lunatics, without a doubt." How did the boy know he had been thinking this? Was his mind being read? No—that was scientifically impossible. How could a human being read someone else's mind? Unless the mind unconsciously gave off little sound waves that no scientific instrument had been able to catch before.

Now _he_ was spouting crap.

"To that question, we are currently residing in your mind." Wait—he could feel a ridiculous Harry Potter reference coming now. "You know, your reactions are quite odd when compared with other humans."

"Are they?"

"I don't know—you get shot at, you wake up in a strange white room with a strange little boy telling you that he is talking to you in your mind, and all you can think about is 'Dumbledore is gay'? Honestly."

"That just shows that I'm well-read. But as you wish, who are you? And what happened?"

"I am R.R." The boy continued to stare up at the ceiling, brilliant violet eyes focused on something Fenleigh couldn't see. "I merely pushed you aside before the bullet hit." The boy, talking casually of his extraordinary action, shifted his eyes to look down at his ivory hands. "You seem careless about your survival. I've seen people more concerned about what they will eat for lunch."

"No matter how I feel, what I want—it won't affect my situation," Fenleigh said truthfully. If the boy could read minds, as he claimed, there was no point in lying. "But being in control—even if it is just over yourself, that is one thing I'm determined to be in charge of."

"But to take it to an extent to which you don't care about life?"

"Life has no interest for me."

"What about the afterlife?" The child's eyes flickered to his visage, when he started laughing.

"No, no, I phrased that wrongly." Fenleigh said. Life has no interest in me, he had meant to say.

"…Interesting," R.R. said. Turning over, the boy got up, and slowly padded his way towards him. Raising his fingers, R.R. reached forward to touch Fenleigh's face. He flinched, before stiffening. Smiling cruelly, the boy's cold fingers made contact with his skin, and he felt himself expand, shrink, warp into something completely different.

The world was blue, violet eyes flickering everywhere, and then everything was black and white. Two worlds.

"You cry out for power, but is quelled by the world around you," The clear voice echoed throughout the world, as the sun rose. "But our contract will change that. In return for my gift of power, you must grant one wish of mine." The sun rose from the world, and it lit up the other world, revealing rivers and rivers of light. "If you enter into this contract, you will live as a human, but as one completely different." But then the sun lit up its own world, and it revealed that there was nothing. "Different rules, different time, a different life…the power of the king is forlorn indeed. If you are prepared for that, then…"

"For every gain, I have to be prepared for a loss," Fenleigh said, eyes observing the phenomenon taking place around him. "I accept this contract."

With a shock, the worlds disappeared, and he felt himself on firm ground again. Opening his eyes, and seeing the remnants of battle all around him once more, he had to wonder if the strange event had just taken place. But no—the boy, R.R. was lounging once more just beyond his reach, violent eyes gleaming. Looking around, he felt strangely nostalgic. No, that wasn't the word. It felt—fleeting. As if something had been there, and he could have grasped for it, but he didn't. And then, it was too late and it was gone.

He heard a groan, and turned his head to see Gel-boy getting up from the ground, blood dripping from a minor head wound. It appeared as if he'd been knocked to the ground by a massive force.

"What…the hell was…that?" Gel-boy growled, fumbling for his hand gun. And then, he noticed R.R., and aimed the gun at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Tell me," Fenleigh said, picking himself up from the ground. "Do you always point guns at children?" His eyes on the other's eyes, his left eye turned red, with a bird-shaped sigil glowing in the middle.

"Why are you still alive?" Gel-boy snarled. "I could've sworn I shot—"

"Die." Fenleigh said, his voice piercing through the air to fog surrounding them.

"What the…?" Gel-boy said, eyes narrowing. "Is that your pathetic idea of resistance?"

Fenleigh frowned. It appeared that his first instinct when using his power had been inappropriate. Then what was the issue…?

"His name is Tsuyoshi," R.R. said, face splitting into a smile. Fenleigh glanced at the boy. What did he need the boy's name for?

"Tsuyoshi. I command you to die," He said, hazarding a guess. His hypothesis proved correct; Gel-boy—no, Tsuyoshi's eyes glowed a faint red, his frame relaxed, and a unbefitting smile lit his face. He raised his gun to the side of his own head. "See you on the other side," He giggled, his own finger tightening on the trigger. With an explosion, dark blood seeped into the ground, as the body collapsed into a heap. The gun clattered to the floor.

"History repeats itself in Geass," the clear voice said. Fenleigh whipped around, and saw that R.R. had come closer. The little boy observed the body on the floor with an indifference that looked out of place on such an innocent face.

"Geass? The name of this power?" He looked down at the body, then noticed his shaking hands. How interesting, he thought to himself. Why were his hands shaking? He'd killed those pilots of the enemy Knightmares just a few hours ago—this wasn't his first time he'd killed someone. But seeing it, right in front of him, the blood of someone he'd killed—he hadn't prepared himself for this.

"Do you like it?" R.R. asked, seeing through the blood.

"No," He lied. R.R. stayed silent, but smiled. Hating that cruel smile more and more, he looked up. One of the newer Britannian frames—in all the strange events happening, he had failed to notice that the aerial fights had momentarily ceased—the Gatekeeper T4, was descending slowly, utilizing the new Light Wing systems. The Light Wing system, developed by Camelot, fired energy bolts, boosted the general range and accuracy of the Knightmare, and was self-supporting. The Gatekeeper T4, being spare in production, was mostly given to commanders. Painted black and white, it was hard to miss when its milieu was the bloody color of the sun.

"You there!" A deep voice rang out. "Identify yourself!"

"I was recently attacked by a Japanese, and I have just divested myself of it." Fenleigh said calmly, stepping aside from the body as proof. _It_, he had said. As if a Japanese wasn't a human. He looked down at the corpse once more. But humans were so fragile—who would want to be one?

"Who is that child?" The voice from the Knightmare said sharply, as the frame landed with a soft _tump_ on the ground.

"He's with me. We may be injured; can you help us?" His power was like a new toy; he wanted to play with it more and more. He wondered—would he would outgrow this toy?

The pilot agreed, and exiting from his pod, dropped to the ground. He jogged to where they were standing, and roughly checked R.R., who looked indignant.

"You never identified yourself, kid. Who are you?" The pilot said, turning around to face him. The man appeared middle-aged, his blond hair streaked prematurely with grey and white. The man squinted his eyes against the setting sun, and looked at him.

The boy looked around seventeen, eighteen, and was wearing casual clothes: a simple black cardigan thrown over a green polo shirt, and black pants. Inky dark hair framed his thin handsome face, and grey-blue eyes stared back at him in a manner that chilled his bones.

"Your Highness!" The man said, eyes widening. Rushing to drop to a knee, the man bowed his head downwards submissively. Fenleigh looked at him in surprise; most people tended to not recognize him, as he had always been hidden from the public.

"I see that you recognized me," He said. "What is your name?"

"Engineering Corps soldier Vendens, Your Highness." The man said, raising his head to look at the boy curiously.

"Vendens. Give me your Knightmare," He commanded as his left eye lit up with a red glow; when the man obediently threw him his starter chip, and recited the code—P0937F—a sense of elation rushed through him. So this, he wondered, Was what power felt like.

Getting into the golden Gatekeeper, and activating it, he looked back, to see the man standing perfectly still where he had left him. Then, as he was watching, the man suddenly blinked, and looked around, startled. Noticing the moving Gatekeeper, confusion clouded the man's face. Then, outrage filled his expression, and taking out a handgun, the man appeared to be trying to shoot down the Knightmare.

"Oh? Shooting at a prince?"

"Return to the ground, felon!" Vendens roared, firing several rounds at the Knightmare; they rebounded uselessly.

"Shooting at royalty is a capital offense," Fenleigh vu Britannia said, changing the Knightmare's weapon to a machine gun. "Prepare to be punished."


	2. Breathing

Commentary

I researched Code Geass, and tried to make most of the information accurate and factual. If you see any obvious mistakes, please tell me. (Especially about uniforms and Knightmares. They really confuse me).

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two: Breathing

_Yellowcard_

Fenleigh had not accidentally left R.R. behind. As he clambered into the pod, as the system opened up for him, and as he eradicated the witness—he could feel the boy's violet eyes on him. As he left the two bullet-riddled bodies behind, his eyes involuntarily flickered downwards. R.R. stood between the two puddles of blood with an unreadable expression on his blood-spattered face.

But as much as the child disturbed him, the Geass was a welcome addition. Moving the Gatekeeper away from the site, Fenleigh released the controls, and scraped at his itching hands. They were covered in dry blood.

He contemplated his newfound power, the Geass. From what he had observed so far, his Geass allowed him to give a command to a human, and it would be carried out unfailingly. But an irritating setback, he'd discovered, was the fact that he needed the person's name. His brow burrowed in concentration. Were there any other such setbacks to this Geass? Indeed, the power of Absolute Obedience did seem a bit too convenient. He would have to explore this, and understand its power.

"Y-7! Report, Vendens!" A harsh voice crackled over the public channel. "What is your status?"

It had been so easy, he thought to himself as he stared at his bloodied hands. So easy to kill them. And he had almost ended up the same way. But now, now, he knew what he wanted. He didn't want to die, not when he'd done so little to be remembered by. In time, nobody would remember the Japanese boy, nobody would remember the Gatekeeper's pilot. But he...

"Commander Vendens! This is Lord Rigton; are you there?" The voice repeated, irritatingly.

"This isn't Vendens," Fenleigh snapped, returning his attention to the field around him. Except for a lone yellow and red Vincent Ward engaged in a small firefight with a Guren about 100 meters away, the battle had become quiet. It appeared that both sides were preparing for a final showdown. He could see only small-scale skirmishes, and the resounding explosions of before were now muted.

"Who is this?" The other end of the line demanded again. Fenleigh looked wearily at his monitor. Now. Time to test his Geass. Observing the battle between the Vincent Ward and the Guren, he could see that the Vincent Ward was being slowly crippled. The Guren's pilot appeared to be playing with his food.

"Rigton. Destroy that Guren."

There was a slight pause, and then Fenleigh triumphantly observed a custom-made Knightmare peel away from a group, and destroy the Guren with a slash harken. He tapped the armrest. It appeared that it did not matter whether he was looking at the man—or woman—in question. And, he did not even have to know who exactly he was directing with. This was an invaluable tool, he thought to himself, feeling another sensation of elation. But for this benefit to work, he would have to sift through the profiles of the prominent military officers, and memorize their names. It was going to be an irritating task to undertake, but it would probably prove useful in the not too far off future.

"What the—what am I doing…?" Rigton's dazed voice came over the line. "Why am I—"

"This is Commander Tresston." A second, more familiar, voice cut into the line. "Y-7. I command you to identify yourself."

"Commander Tresston," Fenleigh chuckled. It appeared that his interrogator had been replaced by none other than the lovely Airia Tresston. "It's been a while."

"…Prince Fenleigh!" Airia said in shock, recognizing his voice. "Is that you, Your Highness?"

"Indeed."

"Why are you piloting that Knightmare? And where is Officer Vendens?"

"He exited this Knightmare when he spotted me on the ground," Fenleigh said carefully, spinning out a story_._ "He feared that I was injured; but while he was helping me, a Japanese Zedbug appeared, and shot at us. Although I managed to escape, Vendens was wounded grievously."

"I see. Are you injured, Prince Fenleigh?"

"Only shallow wounds. I'll be fine." Fenleigh smiled. Airia Tresston—he had often visited her huge orange farm, as a child. Running it with Jeremiah Gottwald, her father, and Anya, the former Knight of Six, he remembered it being a beautiful and peaceful place. Not to mention the delicious oranges. But wait—the orange farm was in Japan. "What happened to your farm?"

"…I left the farm to my father, who chose to not participate in this invasion." Airia's voice lowered a notch. "Fenleigh. What is going on? Why are we attacking Japan?"

Fenleigh ignored the question; he did not know the answer himself. "I will be landing on the battle ship, Babylon. That is where you are, I'm presuming?"

"Yes, your Highness."

Using this Gatekeeper was much easier than the Vincent, he observed, as he flew up towards the Babylon. The Babylon was essentially a huge fortress masquerading as a battle ship, and was currently floating over the capital of Japan: Zero City. It was at least a kilometer long at the widest diameter, being mostly vertically shaped.

Gently landing the Gatekeeper on the landing platform, a flock of officers gathered around its feet, as he exited the pod. It was windy, he felt. And it was getting dark, quickly. The battle was not yet won. He would have to do something about this. Yes, he thought to himself, elation glimmering inside his eyes. I can now make a difference, with this geass.

"Prince Fenleigh!" Airia, a beautiful woman with long wavy azure hair and a hardened countenance, walked up towards him. She was wearing one of the many sundry uniforms that plagued the Britannian empire: a brick-colored top, with bands running across the top, tight white britches, and black boots. "What happened?"

"I will explain later. Who is in charge of this invasion?" Fenleigh said impatiently.

"Prince Atticus is currently deciding on our next strategy with the generals, my lord." Airia said, standing at attention. Fenleigh groaned. That idiot brother of his was in charge of this? This was the second direct assault on Japan. The first, attacking the city of Kouzuku, took Japan completely by surprise, giving them the edge required for victory. Kouzuku was an important port city, and had helped to block Japan from its resources. But this time, in attacking the capital, the Japanese were aware and were angered. There had to be a master strategy behind this, if Britannia was to win. And the empire of Britannia, _his_ empire had to win. There was no other option.

"Where is the Prime Minister?" He questioned.

"Prime Minister Leon is currently commanding the part of the invasion in Kyoto." Fenleigh frowned. He'd known that they would be attacking Kyoto, but he had assumed that this would take place after Zero City. They were dividing the limited Britannian forces, and simultaneously attacking two cities? A double-edged sword, he decided. Their fleet was getting cut in half, but the Japanese would not be able to concentrate on defending just a single city, meaning their reinforcements were being cut as well.

"Take me to Atticus." He commanded.

"Prince Atticus specified that there should be no interruptions," Airia said, raising an eyebrow.

"And I say that you take me to him," Fenleigh said, eyeing her. Before, he would have simply followed his elders' orders. But not anymore—he would show them his true potential, his new power. This was his first step.

"Yes, my lord." Airia said, standing at attention. She quickly gestured to an inferior officer, who motioned for Fenleigh to follow.

Atticus le Britannia, third prince of Britannia, was his older half-brother. With his sleek bronze hair and green eyes, he was popular with the ladies—Fenleigh had caught his brother with many different women back in Pendragon. Atticus was his second least favorite brother—the least favorite being that brat Elliott—and his strategic skills were less than adequate, rather like his uncle Odysseus. He and Atticus had rarely interacted, creating a rather cool relationship between the two. However, Atticus was always warm towards him—in fact, he was kind to everyone. Maybe that was why he was the most popular with the people. Fenleigh, in return, treated him with frosty impudence disguised as deference.

Through the gates, and inside the Babylon, Fenleigh saw several men being tortured by Britannian officers. Upon closer observation, he saw that they were Japanese. Red mouths gaping, stripped to their waists, and bloody lines visible all over their body, the men were no longer responding to the blows. Fenleigh looked at each dying man with a purposely blank gaze. His natural instinct was to feel pity for the men, but he would have to curb such feelings. These men, if human, were Japanese. And for Britannia to arise, Japan would have to be crushed, starting with these individuals.

Past paneled corridors, and harried officers who scurried by, while saluting to Fenleigh, there was a small fountain in the center of a colossal hall. The fountain was in the shape of some Medieval god, it appeared, and it was wrestling with a bear. Fenleigh recoiled as he passed it.

"Who decorated this place?" Fenleigh questioned, entering a large room located to the left of the fountain. At one end were large screens monitoring the flow of the battle—aerial combating had restarted—and glowing grids, with moving dots. Several high-ranking officials sat around a large table located in the middle, moving figures representing the Britannian army around with sticks. And at the far end to Fenleigh's left sat an enthroned man, wearing the primarily white and purple military apparel of a royal.

"That would be me," Atticus le Britannia said, smiling at Fenleigh's expression. As if to make up for his less than adequate strategic abilities, Atticus had been gifted with a keen sense of hearing. "Where were you? You made me worry."

"I was out observing the battle, when I was attacked. I had to eject from my pod."

"You can observe the battle from _here_," Atticus said, tapping the side of his throne for emphasis.

"I prefer my way of doing things," Fenleigh said, and turned to face the generals. "You there—update me on our current status."

"Reinforcements have yet to arrive, and the Japanese appear to have increased their fleet." A bald and corpulent man said, standing up. "The enemy has managed to flank us, and many of our specialized speed units have been obliterated."

"A blitzkrieg won't work the second time," Fenleigh said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Who suggested this?"

"What do you suggest then, Fenleigh?" Atticus said, raising his eyebrow. Fenleigh flicked his gaze towards him, before turning back to look at the grids. Was he testing him?

Their line formations were almost completely broken, and the enemy had flanked them. From the looks of it, almost half of their Knightmares had either been destroyed, or taken by the enemy. Whereas only a quarter of the Japanese fleet had been obliterated. This was also taking place right in Zero City, where Japanese reinforcements would be quick to arrive. The Britannian reinforcements were at least two hours away. Fenleigh gritted his teeth. There was a strong line formation surrounding the center of the city, where the most important government buildings were. They needed to crack that line.

"Taking Kouzuku wasn't enough," Fenleigh said. "We needed to completely cut off their communications and supplies, which would have, besides the obvious, lowered their morale."

"You are overestimating the enemy, Fenleigh," Atticus said, shaking his head.

"No," Fenleigh said. "We have underestimated them." He looked to the corpulent general once more. "How many reserves do we have?"

"Under Prince Atticus' orders, none of the reserves have been released into battle yet." The man said, looking uneasy at being singled out continuously. Fenleigh frowned; although the reserves would greatly help in his plan, the fact that Atticus had not used the reserves yet disturbed him.

"Why have none of the reserves been used?" He asked sharply towards Atticus. Atticus, looking disinterested, shrugged.

"The battle is lost, Fenleigh, and the reserves won't make a difference. Why have more men die in a losing battle?" Atticus said. Fenleigh frowned, but accepted the logic. It was true, having men die in a pointless fight would only drain the Britannian fleet. He examined the remaining Knightmares.

"Brother, I will take command of this battle," Fenleigh said coldly.

"You think you can change the outcome?" Atticus said, shaking his head again. Supporting his head with his right hand, his eyes pierced Fenleigh's. "Don't be arrogant."

"Atticus," Fenleigh said quietly, left eye shining red, "Give me command over this." Atticus' eyes widened for a moment, before relaxing, and glowing a faint red.

"Alright then," Atticus complied, and got up from his throne, standing demurely to the side. Fenleigh, with triumph in his eyes, placed himself on the throne for the first time in his life.

"All of you shall follow my orders, now," Fenleigh said, looking around at the generals who were directing orders to the units. All of the officials, who had been confusedly staring at each other, jumped to attention.

"Yes, my lord!"

"Where are the Knights of Rounds?" In the recent peace, the Knights of Rounds had become less of a military force, and more of a diplomatic role, but the six currently filled positions were held by highly competent pilots. At least, from what had been seen of their simulation records.

"Two are guarding the emperor in Pendragon, two are assisting the Kyoto invasion, the Knight of Four is on a special mission, and the Knight of Eight is currently with us. But his Knightmare was damaged, so he was withdrawn."

Fenleigh frowned; perhaps the Knights weren't so competent in real battle. None of them were the veteran Knights of thirty years back, so this would probably be their first or second battle. It was not skill, he realized, But experience. Experience which he lacked.

"Camelot—is my personal Knightmare done?"

"Oho—if it isn't Prince Fenleigh," The peculiar voice of Major Lloyd Asplund filled his ears. Head of the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps, he was an eccentric man whom Fenleigh had generally avoided before. "It's a good thing we just finished main development on it. We haven't actually perfected all the bugs, yet, but—"

"Is it operable?" He eagerly interrupted.

"The controls are a bit overly complex, which might weaken your defenses a bit." Lloyd admitted. "But besides that, it should work."

"Good enough," Fenleigh said. Terminating the connection, he turned to leave. Now—to win the battle, and lead Britannia to victory.

"Wait," Reginald said, eyes flashing. He appeared to have returned to normal. Fenleigh frowned: If he had simply ordered Reginald to obey him, this wouldn't have been happening. "Where are you going?"

"I will be personally leading the troops, brother," Fenleigh responded evenly, opening the door. "And I am in command now, remember?"

"Ah…yes," Atticus said, eyes glowing red for an instant once more.

"I will be the one to change the world," Fenleigh said impulsively, exiting the silent room with the officer trailing timidly behind.

--

It was a beautiful Knightmare. That was the first thought that entered his mind, when he saw it in the hangar. A slender humanoid frame, it was mostly an inky black and blue, the exceptions being the jewel eyes. Blue, and yellow.

"Albireo." Fenleigh said softly, looking up at the Knightmare.

"How did you guess its name?" Lloyd said in his funny voice, popping up from behind him. He wore his typical spotless white lab coat. "The Albireo."

"The eyes." He said simply. "System?"

"The updated Yggdrasil-02 system, widening the visual sphere and providing higher synchronization rates." He said, adjusting his circular glasses with his hand.

"Weapons?"

"Two slash harkens, located on the hips, with harken double-boosters of course. Custom FLEIA blasters in the chest and back."

"FLEIA?" Fenleigh said. "You mean the bomb?"

"Merely based on it; these blasters aren't powerful enough to level a city." Lloyd said, looking rather disappointed. "But they're quite powerful. Consumes a huge amount of energy, however, so use sparingly. The main weapons are two one-handed maser energy swords. A bit complicated to use, but," He glanced at Fenleigh's face, "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. They can generate energy fields that will cut through energy blasts."

"Except for the blasters, not much amazing customization to be had, I see." Fenleigh said dryly. So much for all the acclaim this eccentric scientist had. The Albireo wouldn't be enough for what he wanted.

"Oho, but that's where you're wrong," Lloyd said, putting his hands into his long lab coat, and staring up at the Knightmare gleefully. "I've gambled quite a lot on this. The entire Knightmare frame is made out of an extremely rare substance called speillite. It's quite a strange phenomenon. The gas is suspended in a solid; the Knightmare is able to go up to tremendous speeds, way beyond what was ever possible. But even being so light, it's as tough as the Mordred's armor. As you can imagine, it's taken awhile to gather enough to make the Albireo."

"Good," Fenleigh said, nodding. This was perfect for his geass. ""Anything else I should know?"

"I've developed a special energy wing system just for this," Lloyd said fondly. "They'll boost your speed to be even faster than the speed of sound. Not quite the speed of light," Lloyd shrugged. "But we'll get there. They also come with a special effect—power canceller. It sends out an electromagnetic wave of disrupter—an upgraded version of Rakshata's Gefjun Disrupter. It'll rapidly drain the Knightmares in a 100 meter diameter of their power. Seeing as your allies will also lose power, I suggest you use this only in a desperate situation."

"What about the defense equipment?" Fenleigh frowned.

"I reused the Blaze Luminous shields here." Lloyd sighed in disappointment. "There was no time to work on the shields, not if I wanted to meet today's deadline." He tossed him the starter chip. "Please don't get this Knightmare destroyed."

"Professor Lloyd!" Cécile Croomy, a subordinate at Camelot, spoke up. "Haven't you forgotten to mention something?"

"Hmm?" Lloyd said airily.

Fenleigh, already running towards the Albireo, looked behind at Lloyd. "Start the activation sequence," He commanded.

"Beginning activation from phase twenty," Cécile said, after a pause. "The energy filler is active and charging internal components. Thirty seconds to total activation." Fenleigh, grabbing a transponder from an officer, jumped into the seat, which quickly closed with a hissing sound. "Devicer setup. Devicer A-07, entry confirmed. Transponder active."

The interior was spacey, despite the slimness of the exterior. There were two chairs, he noticed, and both had complicated controls littering the front. It would take a herculean effort, he thought dryly, Just to reach all of the controls.

"Man-machine interface activation confirmed." An impossible Knightmare to control by oneself, Fenleigh realized. Just looking at the controls made him feel wary of how he would be able to move. It seemed that to achieve such speed, it seemed that you needed someone else to do it with you. But…

"Not in my case," He said, inserting the starter chip and typing in the code. The Knightmare's binary eyes lit up, each different color glowing against the stretch of continuity below it.

"Yggdrasil-02 visual interface confirmed. Force feedback active. All systems are green." Gazing at both controls, he took in the central ones necessary for general movement and weaponry. His hands flew over the keys, and feeling more and more tired with every movement necessary to just start the Albireo, doubt pierced his concentration. But he had to brush it away, brush everything away, for the sake of his empire.

"Oh, Cécile, that's what you were talking about." Lloyd said suddenly. "I forgot to mention that the motions for the Albireo are so complicated, it takes one person to move it, and another to attack."

"Professor Lloyd!" Cécile said angrily.

"I was going to initially have you pilot it with him." Lloyd stared up at the Albireo. "But oh well. His production and synchronization ratios, and training numbers are all abnormally high," He looked at a moving list of data on his monitor. "So it might work."

"How are the controls?" Cécile's voice came over the line, anxiously. "Professor Lloyd forgot to mention how exactly complex they are. I was supposed to help you, but…"

"It's manageable," Fenleigh said, moving his Albireo into launch position. "I'm ready, now."

"Are you su—" Her voice was cut off by Lloyd's voice, which said, in a gleeful tone:

"I see you've gotten the hang of it."

"Releasing backup energy source. Second phase complete," Another subordinate's voice came over the line.

This was it. If he went any further, there'd be no returning. If he did this, he would accept his condemnation—_I will be the one to change the world_. When he had said those words, he had felt confident in his ability to do so. But now that he was actually there, the reality filled him with dread. And before, he would have caved in, left the Knightmare, and ordered a retreat. After all, vastly outnumbered in a foreign territory, the chances of victor were slim.

But the Geass lent him power. And he was no longer afraid to use it.

As he mentally flicked through the pages of his plan, he wondered—would it work? If he failed in his part, then the Britannian forces would fall apart, and the second invasion would be a complete disaster. It was all up to him now. All in his control.

But this was what he had wanted, wasn't it?

Moving the Albireo into launch position, he felt the heavy cables that had attached it to the earth come free.

"Albireo, launch!"

Preparing himself for the momentum, Fenleigh rapidly calculated the complex mathematics necessary for the Albireo to move upwards (so complex, they can't even be written out here). If it were a normal Knightmare, movement was as simple as pressing a button and pushing a stick forward. But to get the Albireo moving smoothly at near light speed, he needed to calculate every obstacle that could move in its path, the pressure of the atmosphere, the momentum it would need, and several other minuscule factors. A small price to pay, however, for the speed it would bring. He blinked. When he opened them a millisecond later, the Albireo was flying outside in the open. Ceasing the movement of his fingers for a moment, he blinked again. He was no longer in Lloyd's launch pad; he was floating about a hundred meters above the Babylon. Such a distance had been achieved in less then a second—and he had not felt the slightest movement. But, he thought as sweat beaded his forehead, He would have to talk to Lloyd. He would not be able to last long like this; if his concentration slipped up, he would lose control over the Albireo.

The Albireo's energy wings shone a brilliant red, reminding all who saw it of the sun. But the sun was now gone, and it was night.


	3. Remember the Name

Commentary:

The second main character is introduced.

Chapter Three: Remember the Name

_Fort Minor_

Mirai could hear the sounds of cities crumbling, unrelenting explosions of blasters, and the earsplitting screams of the defeated.

Blood stained the streets, as lives all around her were destroyed.

"Why is this happening?" She cried out, as hordes of people fled by her, running blindly in their effort to escape. Britannian Knightmares had appeared from the ocean, massacring the waiting innocents.

She had been at school, waiting for class to end, when the first wave of Knightmares entered the city. As she doodled Ryuusuke's name on her notebook, dozens of innocent people were being slaughtered by Britannians. As she sneaked looks at the boy whose name was scribbled over her paper, the city was being destroyed. The vice principal had run into the classroom, and ordered that they all be evacuated from the building.

"What's going on?" Nami said in an irritated manner, flipping open her laptop. As they all crowded around the news feed, they found to their surprise that the usual anchorwoman had been replaced by a stern-faced young Japanese man.

"We are reporting live from the outskirts of the city; we are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack! The Britannian fleet has suddenly emerged from the ocean, and are bombarding Zero City. There appears to be no distinction between military facilities and civilians."

A woman crept up to the anchorman, and whispered something into his ear, before withdrawing.

"Yes—this just in. Kyoto has been simultaneously bombarded!"

There had been confusion, outrage, and worry. Running away from the rest of the students—"Where are you going, Mirai?!"—she had ran towards the direction where smoke was now arising. Her parents worked as military officials—they would, no doubt, be in the counterattack. If they weren't dead already.

And she had seen, for the first time, the true power of Knightmares. She had seen them before, of course. Even though the world had been at peace since the death of Lelouch the Demon, Japan hadn't taken any chances. Cautious of the other superpowers, the nation had continued to have Knightmares patrol the city. But security must have become lax, she thought to herself furiously, if they were this helpless against such a barrage of death. Even after the warning attack at Kouzuku last week, had there just not been enough time to sufficiently defend against Britannia?

Running, running, throughout the day, she had found her house unoccupied, and shortly after, destroyed. Running, running, she had found the military facility her parents worked at, already destroyed. And even after the night came, and even after the Britannian forces temporarily withdrew victoriously, her parents had never returned. Where were they?

"Where are you?" She screamed at the incoming red and yellow Vincent. With a slash harken, it destroyed a Zedbug that had been guiding people in the evacuation.

"Hey, lady," A small boy said, coming towards her. "What are you doing?" He looked like her little brother, she thought to herself. Same age, too. They could have even been in the same elementary school.

"Where are your parents?" She said gently, taking his hand and leading him away from the incoming Knightmares. Had he been separated from the rest of his kindergarten class?

"Don't know," the boy said. "Did you see my cap?" He started to cry. Mirai felt awkward; the pit of confusion and horror that she had been wallowing in now felt silly. There are little kids like him around, she scolded herself. She didn't have time to be feeling scared for herself.

"If I lose that cap again, I'm going to get in trouble with my mom…"

"What did it look like?" Mirai asked, checking behind her to ensure that they were a safe distance away. They weren't.

"It's blue, with a yellow streak through it." He said, scanning the ground around him. "And it says—hey!" Letting go of her hand, he dived towards the ground behind them.

"No—NO!" She screamed, turning around to grasp the boy's hand again. She saw a gleaming Knightmare stalking its way close. "It's dangerous!" And she watched as the boy, dirt-faced, hold up his cap in triumph. Eyes wide, her legs running away against her will, she felt an explosion directly behind her, and saw the boy disappear, smiling. Screaming, the people surged forward, arms spread everywhere as if that would save them.

The next day, the Britannian forces attacked again. But this time, Japan was ready. The city was mostly empty now; most of the population had fled to the countryside. As the aerial forces fought furiously overhead, her city was slowly destroyed.

"Mirai!" She heard someone call. Dazed, she lifted herself up from the ruins of her home. Had she really spent the entire day just sitting here? She turned to look at the people who joined her, and her eyes widened.

"Ryuusuke?" She cried, jumping to her feet. Ryuusuke, with his warm hazel eyes, smiled at her. He was accompanied by several others she recognized as from her school: there was Ribbon, with her shining black eyes and her confident demeanor; Tsuyoshi, who was popular at her school, but whom she thought was a jerk; Ruki, a strange looking boy who she didn't know very well; and Hikari, the pedantic valedictorian. "Why are all of you here?"

"All of us," Ryuusuke said, gesturing towards the others, who nodded at her. "All of us are looking for any civilians who were left behind, and helping them."

"What—why? Why not just evacuate? That would be safer." Mirai questioned, bewildered. If it hadn't been for her parents, she would have been the first to flee from the city.

"They were recruiting people at the evacuation camp," Hikari explained. "Military officials—they promised us a chance to be a devicer, if we volunteered."

"And some of us," Tsuyoshi said, coughing, "Some of us did it because we wanted to help." Mirai then noticed the submachine guns that they all held. It looked out of place next to their school uniforms. Ribbon noticed where she was looking, and smiling, held it up.

"If we kill some Britannians," Ribbon said, grinning, "That would be a bonus. You'll join us, won't you? Mirai?"

"K-kill?" Mirai said, her eyes widening. Kill? A human being?

"Well," Hikari said, his brow creasing, "You can just help us with the wounded, I guess. But…" He held up another gun, "Can you just hold this? It's rather heavy."

Reaching for the gun, she held it in both hands awkwardly. Yes, killing human beings was bad, she thought to herself in a rather childish manner. And then her expression hardened. But Britannians—after all they had done to her city, to her parents, and to the countless others that had died, they couldn't be called humans, could they?

--

Her initial feeling of joy disappeared with Ryuusuke when he went to lead a family of three to safety. There were just the five of them now.

Mirai saw more blood than she had ever seen in her life. There were times when they were able to help an injured or lost person, and Mirai was rewarded with a warm feeling when she saw the person give them a look of deep gratitude. But she also saw the dead bullet-riddled bodies of children with piled on top of each other. They were wearing the same cap and uniform as the little boy from before. _The little boy_. She hadn't even found out his name.

The sun was setting when Mirai saw the Britannian.

"Hey," She whispered, pulling Ribbon's sleeve—never having felt comfortable around members of the opposite sex, she'd grouped with the only other female. "There's someone over there." The person was in the shadows of a huge hunk of rock, and his face was only faintly visible.

Tsuyoshi, hearing her, immediately ran towards him. But when he had gotten close to the male, he suddenly swore something, and fired several times at his feet. The bullets harmlessly hitting the dirt around him, the male remained oblivious; he seemed absorbed in the aerial fight occurring above them.

"Tsuyoshi, you idiot," Ribbon snarled, chasing after him. "What are you doing?!"

"He's a Britannian!" Tsuyoshi yelled back. Shocked, Mirai also pounded her feet after them, and the five of them gathered around the Britannian, who appeared to have finally noticed them. A Britannian? she wondered. Why was a Britannian civilian over here? With his dark hair, she had mistaken him for a Japanese, but up close, his face was unmistakably foreign.

"Hands up! Turn around," Hikari demanded, and stepped forward to roughly pat the bemused Britannian down. Seeing his face clearly, Mirai realized with a jolt that it was a boy maybe around their age. With dark hair, and the cloudiest eyes she had ever seen, he did not seem frightened in his predicament. Contrarily, the boy looked amused.

"He may be Britannian," She said, "But he's wearing civilian clothing." That meant he was a human, didn't it? He was a kid, just like them.

"What's your name?" Ruki said in a friendly tone. Mirai had to wonder at his attitude; next to the rough Tsuyoshi and the cold Hikari, Ruki's warmth was glaringly obvious. But through the corner of her eyes, she noticed that the Britannian boy seemed to recoil in disgust. Tsuyoshi must have noticed the disdainful look as well—taking a step towards the boy, he brought his face close to the boy's coldly.

"Who cares, when we're just going to kill him?" He sneered, raising his gun up, and patting it.

"But—he's a kid!" Mirai objected, brushing aside Tsuyoshi's gun. So far, they hadn't come across any stray Britannian soldiers, to her relief. But if they did, she wasn't going to stop Tsuyoshi or Hikari from shooting them down. Especially if the Britannian soldiers were killing civilians. But—killing a kid, who was so obviously just in the wrong place at the wrong time? That was going a bit far, wasn't it? "And remember Zero, our savior! He used to say all the time—"

"Zero, Zero, Zero," Tsuyoshi mimicked, rolling his eyes. "Talk about something different for once, won't you?" Mirai turned a deep red.

"Zero rescued us from Britannia!" Mirai hissed. So what if she tended to quote Zero? He was the savior of Japan, wasn't he? And they learned about him in school everyday! You would think that Tsuyoshi would have learned at least one of Zero's ideals: to value life. "So you have no right to hate him!" Tsuyoshi recoiled at her words. Hating Zero was practically blasphemous. On her street, she remembered with a feeling of nostalgia, if a person described Zero as having even a single defect, that person would have been lynched.

"I don't _hate_ him, I was just—"

"Enough of this crap," Ribbon said sharply, stepping in between them. The Britannian boy smirked, for some reason, despite the fact that Hikari was still aiming his gun at him. "Look, even that Britannian is laughing at us." Here, the boy's face immediately turned expressionless. "One minute in, and all we do is argue about _Zero_?"

"Who made you leader?" Tsuyoshi bristled.

"Who made you leader?" Ribbon mimicked him mockingly. Hikari, turning his attention towards them, sighed in irritation.

"Look, guys, don't—"

Mirai was unable to catch the rest; the Britannian boy, with a lightning speed that argued against his seemingly frail frame, rammed into her. Taken by surprise, she flew backwards, and slammed into a protruding slab of concrete. Everything turning dim and black with a stream of red in between, she slumped to the ground. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she felt the ground tremor with bullets and saw two dark figures fall down to join her on the ground. The last thing she saw was the boy's face, cold and serene like an angel's, as he delivered death to them all. He was not a human after all, she thought sadly, as she drifted away.

--

"This is it?" Fenleigh murmured to himself, surprised at the lack of remaining Britannian Knightmares around him. It was a sad arrangement of Gatekeepers, Vincents, and Sutherlands, all floating awkwardly around his Albireo.

"Yes, Your Highness." The last remaining field commander said, his voice slightly hazy over the communication link. "Will we be retreating, now?"

"No," Fenleigh said, tapping his fingers on the screen. "Do not cease fire, but be on the defense. Prepare the reserves for battle, but cover your signals with heat shields." Heat shields were stealth equipment recently developed by Camelot. Covering the signal it was being sent out, it helped when attempting to ambush the enemy. The drawback was that he couldn't see their positions as well.

Seeing the units follow his command, he scanned the dots marking the enemy. Although initially surprised at such a swift follow-up attack after Kouzuku, the enemy had managed to maintain their lines near the center of the city. The outer edges were lost, but the innermost areas were beyond Britannian control. "Team Luken, Raif, and Hadler, remain in your flanking formations. Stay hidden."

"Yes, my lord!" Fenleigh's Albireo turned around to face the remaining Britannian Knightmares, its binary eyes piercing through them all. It was a good thing that most of the controls not involving speed had remained generally the same; if he had to repeatedly go through such a brain-damaging process, he did not think he could last much longer. His cloudless eyes returned to the monitor to track the flow of the enemy Knightmares.

It was more unnerving, Fenleigh saw, now that it was happening in reality than in his head. The Japanese force had to outnumber his own forces at least five to one—he would have to thin it out by at least a half for his plan to work.

"So, Prince Fenleigh," Lloyd's voice came over the communication line. "How is your new weapon?"

"Beyond what I expected," Fenleigh said. "But…" He closed his eyes, and took a small breath. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME TWO PEOPLE WERE TO PILOT THIS?"

"Oho, Prince Fenleigh is angry? What a rare sight," Lloyd said cheerfully. There was a slight scuffling sound in the background; it appeared that someone had hit him on the head. "Ah…I mean, I would have thought you'd prefer it alone."

"Generally," Fenleigh conceded. "But is there a way for you to simplify this?"

"Well," Lloyd said hesitatingly. "I've been working on an A.I. project, and that should do the trick."

Fenleigh nodded, and terminated the link, surveying the turmoil around him.

This was it. It was all up to him now. Flashing his eyes open, his hands moving over the controls, he slashed through the air to destroy the two nearest Japanese Knightmares with both maser energy swords. Before the two pilots even realized that they were dead, his Albireo had flickered away to appear several hundred meters away. He was now outside a circle of Knightmares; every frame behind him simultaneously exploded with a burst of fire.

Seeing the destruction he left in his wake, Fenleigh's exhausted face turned jubilant. With his limited control over the Knightmare, he had been able to wrought so much damage. And once he had mastered the controls—or had it simplified—he would be unstoppable.

Flickering throughout the city with sweat dripping into his eyes, he brought into play his FLEIA cannons, opening up a vast empty space. Making a mental note to commend Lloyd, he ripped the night air open with his crimson wings. His eyes dashed over the screen, while his fingers adapted themselves to the general layout of the control system. Movement calculations to the right, acceleration just below that, weapon adjustment below that, shields to the left, speed boosters below that, general controls in the center, and…

He did not need anything else anymore, as he destroyed the enemy's front line. Drinking in the horrified cries of death, he left behind a residue of red with every swoop. He would leave behind a name to be remembered—with every life that he stole, with every scream he absorbed, he would stain the history of Japan.

His eyes flickered to his monitor, and a smile crept onto his face. Even though he had destroyed at least half of the Japanese fleet from before, only a small difference could be seen. It seemed as if the Japanese were quickly stabilizing the situation with their reserves. And seeing all of the new frames coming in, it looked as if they had launched every reserve they had.

"Release your flanking—" He started, when a series of screams echoed through the communication links. A row of his own Knightmares beeped on his monitor, and the words 'LOST' popped up.

"What's going on?" Fenleigh snarled. He frantically scanned the remaining units; would they be sufficient for what he wanted them to do? He looked at the unit closest to the now lost Knightmares. "Unit Rolund, report to me what happened."

"A large building just collapsed," The pilot's voice said tentatively. "And it crushed everyone in Team Raif." Fenleigh groaned at his misfortune. But, he chided himself, He had to remember that not every plan could be carried out. They were only humans after all.

"Remaining units release your flanking formations, and attack," Fenleigh commanded from his pod. "All other Knightmares continue fire." The hidden frames released their heat shields, and poured out to assail the unsuspecting enemy frames. Continuing to destroy the surrounding Knightmares, he saw to his triumph that the enemy was weakening the defense in the area nearby the released flanking formations. A battle line at a right angle was forming—an obvious retaliation to the new threat he had released.

"All reserves, release heat shields, and attack the hinge of that battle line with maximum fire!" He saw the flood of reserves amass around the line, and try to break through. But there was an obstacle in the way; a hulking custom-made Knightmare that looked like a modified Gladius was freely destroying the reserves. Shooting down an aggressive Guren, he looked at his energy filler. 85% was now gone. The FLEIA blasters had taken a huge chunk out of that, too. He drummed the controls, and then wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, as he made his decision.

With a last burst of the Albireo's energy and his own energy, he flew at the modified Gladius, and quickly destroyed it with his maser energy sword. Panting, he saw the reserves fly through the hole he had created, and reach the core of the city.

"That blue-head is the leader!" A female voice shouted hoarsely over the Japanese communication line, which's frequency had been compromised. "Destroy it!"

"Destroy me?" Fenleigh said, still panting. His delirious eyes widened as he did so, burning with triumph.

"You are human, just like us," The woman pilot snarled. "You can die just as easily as you can kill!"

"Which I must be prepared to," Fenleigh murmured, glancing at his energy filler. 5% left. He would have to return to Lloyd's launch pad. But his role in the battle was now done; the rest was now up to the Britannian fleet. "And you will be my—"

"All forces, halt!" A male voice shouted from the Babylon. Fenleigh jerked in surprise, and obediently stopped moving. What was going on? "All forces, cease fire!" The other Knightmares, all strewn in the confusion, were also staring at each other in confusion. "In the name of Festos vu Britannia, I command that all forces cease, and retreat." Fenleigh's eyes widened, and he gaped at the source of the voice. Why was his brother telling them to stop? They had just managed to break the enemy's strong lines, and were on the brink of victory!

Confusion melting into anger, Fenleigh nevertheless commanded his forces to retreat to the Babylon. The remaining Japanese forces, as if in relief, descended back down towards the waiting city. With just a minute more, he thought to himself, frustrated, He would have completely eradicated the remaining forces. Britannia would have undoubtedly won. But..

The Albireo skidded across the platform in a hurried landing, and Fenleigh furiously tore out into the open night. Brushing aside Lloyd, who squealed at a scorch mark on the Albireo, and the puzzled Commander Tresston, he stormed his way past the poorly furnished hall to where the victim of his wrath awaited.

"Oh, Fenleigh, you're here," the third prince of Britannia said mildly, turning to smile at him. "Where were you, anyways?"

"Why did you order a cease fire?" Fenleigh asked with acid in his tone, clenching his fists. "We would have completely destroyed them!"

"Clearly, Britannia has already won the second invasion," Festos said. "There is no need for further bloodshed." Fenleigh observed Festos critically; he had not been like this before. Festos, with his wavy dark hair and piercing auburn eyes, was a concise man. He believed in doing things all the way, or not doing them at all.

Fenleigh could remember a day, about four years back, when he had caught a rare fox with his own hand-made trap. He had been about to kill it, when something in the fox's eyes made him stop. However, as he had made to free it, Festos had noticed his movements, and immediately shot the fox.

"Show no weakness, Fenleigh," He had said in a cold voice. "And take it all the way."

And the same man here was showing mercy to the enemy? The very man who would execute his own subordinates for the barest hint of cowardice?

"We must take it all the way, brother," Fenleigh repeated Festos' words, taking a step forward. Festos' eyes narrowed, as he tasted Fenleigh's challenge.

"I do not have time for this," Festos said, shoving past Fenleigh, and leaving the room. Fenleigh glanced up at Atticus, who had been observing the scene with a degree of confusion. There was still an odd demure quality to his face that unsettled him.

Fenleigh left the room without saying anything, eyes subsiding into a icy coldness. Whatever happened, he consoled himself, At least Zero City was now in the control of Britannia. The rest of Japan would quickly follow. If today was not to be his day, then he would make another day his.

And he would not wait for it.

--

Avoiding a confrontation with his cold younger brother, Festos left the suffocating room with a sigh of relief. The entire time he had spent in there had been harrowing and nerve-wracking—if it had been someone besides Atticus, he probably would not have even dared to carry out such a move. Fenleigh, if his recent reaction was anything to go by, would have stopped him. But as luck would have it, his little brother had been off somewhere else, unable to stop him before it was too late. Remembering the suspicion in Fenleigh's eyes, Festos made a mental note to be more careful around him. It had been a poor idea in ordering a cease fire—no doubt it had been against his character, and would raise certain suspicions.

But he couldn't very well watch his own people be slaughtered, could he?

Walking briskly out towards the open, and brushing aside the approaching Commander Tresston—who was looking strangely annoyed—he entered his personal customized carrier. Based on the Freedom, it was designed primarily for defense. However, he had added several FLEIA blasters, courtesy of Lloyd. With a capacity of up to five people, it was a valuable asset. Upon entry, however, he found his pilot slumped unconsciously across the floor. Looking up, he was greeted by a pair of brilliant violet eyes.

"Welcome back, R.R.," Festos said, settling comfortably in a plush seat across from the child. "I told you before, be careful. Who will pilot this now?"


	4. Californication

Commentary:

Thank you for the reviews. And I've been updating very quickly because I have up to chapter 6 written out already (but am currently struggling with schoolwork, and has not gotten past it yet...). As for questions concerning R.R., he won't appear for awhile. Sorry, but he will play a big role in the story, so please wait for him. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the setting and historical notions used, or the following characters used in the story: Lelouch, Zero, Nunnally, Schneizel, Karen, Ougi, Villetta, Gottwold, Lloyd, Cecile, ....I could go on. But I won't.

Chapter Four: Californication

_Red Hot Chili Peppers_

"Fenleigh," Euphemia du Britannia said softly. Fenleigh, lying down in his bed, blankly turned to stare down at his half-sister; she was kneeling next to his bed, staring at something hidden in her hands. "Look at this."

"What is it?"

"Wish died," she said, opening her ivory hands wide to reveal its subject.

"It's a butterfly." Fenleigh deadpanned.

"So?" Euphemia said, her curly pink hair framing her frown. "A death is a death." She delicately put down the butterfly next to him on the bed.

"That's disgusting," Fenleigh said coldly. "Throw it away, already."

"It was once beautiful," Euphemia said.

Fenleigh didn't answer; Euphemia sat in a chair nearby a window, and peered outside

"I'm glad," She said, still staring out at the night, "That I was there when it died." Shaking his head, Fenleigh had to wonder at his sister's naivety. She had obviously never seen a human being die, if a dead butterfly was able to shake her like that.

"You know," Fenleigh said, "There are a lot of things worse than that. There's no need for you to cry,"

"I know that," Euphemia said, a single tear falling from her eyes. "But if I cry now, then I won't have to cry later." She turned around to lock eyes with Fenleigh. "And I will be stronger." Fenleigh's throat feeling dry, he evaded her gaze, and stared down at the butterfly.

"Stronger…huh?" He said. If grief made one stronger, he thought, Did that make him weak?

Closing his eyes, he withdrew into his mind. Relief coming to him in the form of blankness, he didn't even notice when Euphemia quietly left the room. The darkness wasn't completely black; the light still on in his room left a faint glow even with his eyes closed. Imagining himself falling, he willed himself to sleep, but couldn't.

A few hours previous, after he had firmly told Lloyd to simplify the controls, he had further experimented with his Geass. Working with several officers, he'd discovered that his Geass worked with sound as a medium. There was no set range to his power; as long as the subject was able to comprehensively hear him, he or she would follow his orders. He'd discovered another setback almost as frustrating as the name-rule: He could only use his Geass once on the same subject. Before his realization of this fact, however, he'd had to suffer a huge humiliation.

"Edward. Take off your pants," He'd drawled. The officer, after doing a handstand, had been staring at him confusedly. At Fenleigh's words, the young man's eyes had widened, and flooded with further confusion.

"What did you say, sir?" Edward had said in a shocked tone.

"I said, take off your pants, Edward." Fenleigh repeated impatiently.

"I…I…That extends beyond your authority, my lord," The young man, turning pale, had said. Fenleigh, just realizing that his Geass could only be used once on the same subject, had turned a tomato red. Feeling tempted to shoot the young man, he had managed to laugh it away, saying it was a joke. But, he glowered to himself, He would have to be more careful next time. He mentally kicked himself again. What had he been thinking when giving that command?

Another discovery he had made was that the subject would not retain any memories of the period when the Geass was used. This, he suspected, Was due to brain damage that the Geass caused when it entered. But all of this, he grumbled to himself, Would be majorly set back by the fact that he needed a name. A name! Why in the world did the subject need to hear his own name?

There was a knock at the door. Sighing, he opened his eyes, wincing as he did so at the sudden brightness.

"Come in," He said. The door opening with a small creak, Commander Tresston entered with an impassive face, and saluted. "Yes, Airia?"

"Prince Fenleigh, I would like to ask for your permission in asking you a personal question." She said stiffly, still standing at the doorway. She seemed uncomfortable, as if unsure of what she should be doing. This was unusual for Airia; she was normally very confident with her surroundings, able to take charge of any situation.

"Close the door, make yourself comfortable," Fenleigh said calmly, sitting up, and lowering his feet to the tiled ground. "Speak."

"I do not believe that my beliefs will allow me to assist in this invasion any further," She said slowly, "If the reasons are not waylaid clearly."

"You're a mere commander," Fenleigh said. "You do not need to know the reasons. Just carry them out."

"Nevertheless, sir," Airia said coldly, "If there are any reasons, at all…?" Looking up at her, Fenleigh revealed a small smile. She was a beautiful woman, he thought to himself again. Possibly in her late twenties, maybe even early thirties—he'd never asked directly—she was a force to be reckoned with. Brilliant strategies, with a quick and decisive mind, she was a good commander, and was on her way to much higher up. She could even, he thought to himself cruelly, Use her body to full effect.

"I, too, do not know my father's reasons," Fenleigh said cogently, staring at her straight in the eye. "But I trust in his decision. It is for the benefit of the empire, Britannia, and consequently for the rest of the world." Except for Japan, he silently added to himself. "I had hoped that you could trust in us a bit more…" He could see her frame visibly relax, as she processed his stance.

"I do, sir." Airia said, in a manner a degree warmer than before. "I apologize for my insolence; it was not in my position to question your authority." Fenleigh smirked; Airia was not usually so formal to him. But then, he thought drily to himself, No one ever was. But that would be something that would soon change.

"Why so reserved, Airia?" He said lightly, standing up. When he stood up, and straightened his profile a bit, he was at least three inches taller than her—standing at 5'11—which pleased him. Using his charm to full effect, he took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "I thought we were closer than that?"

"Sir?" Airia said coolly. Fenleigh, letting go of her cold hand, drew her slender frame towards him in a near embrace.

"Perhaps." He said, bringing her cold lips towards his own.

--

At the memorial service, Mirai did not cry for her lost friends. I will get stronger, she thought firmly to herself. For you all. So she couldn't cry, not now.

It was evening, but the darkness was lit up by thousands of candles flickering in paper boats. Ryuusuke, holding her hand as the priest prayed for the lost souls, squeezed it. Turning her head towards him, she saw his tired face melt into another dazzling smile. Feeling guilty for being happy at such a somber funeral, she rested her head on his shoulder, being careful to avoid moving his bandaged arm. Seeing the white bandages of his cast, she felt anger burn up in her again. While leading the injured family to safety, Britannian Knightmares had shot at him, killing the mother, and hitting his arm. The boy—no, the Britannians, she corrected herself—had done this to them. And now, Tsuyoshi and Hikari were gone, while Ribbon was even now in the emergency room in mortal condition. Ruki had been whisked away with wounded legs, and now, Mirai did not know where he was. Burning eyes turning towards the aged priest, she fervently wished to kill the Britannians who had wrought this upon them.

It had been a week since the Britannian forces mysteriously withdrew from their bombardment. Hundreds of casualties were confirmed, and thousands—thousands!—more were reported missing. But even with such a high death toll, Japan would have won if it hadn't been for the Turnaround Massacre, as the news were now calling it. The Britannian forces had been nearly destroyed, when suddenly, the main Japanese force was almost halved in a matter of minutes, and the entire city taken. Apparently a brilliant strategy executed by the Britannians. There were rumors going around, however, that a single Knightmare had done the deed.

But whatever had happened, the Britannian forces had not attacked since then. However, they had still managed to take over Zero City, which put Japan in a terrible position. Although the majority of the city had been safely evacuated, a sizeable portion of the population were now prisoners of the Britannians. Although it was a depressing thought, Mirai hoped that her family, who she had not yet found, was somewhere inside Zero City. At least their names had not been on the confirmed death list.

"Let's go, Mirai," Ryuusuke murmured in her ear, jolting her back to reality. The service was over; everyone was shuffling away, either to cry over their beloved dead ones, or to return to the military shelters. Looking for the last time upon the framed images of her lost friends, she walked back to her world next to the strong figure beside her.

Ikuta Ryuusuke had transferred to her school only two months prior to the invasion, but in that short time, probably every girl in the school had developed a crush on him. He had wavy chocolate-colored hair that swept over his eyes in a way that made her knees weak. His smooth ivory skin made her long to touch it. His beautiful hazel eyes caught her thinking about them during class. And his warm and slightly raspy voice made her stomach tingle with joy.

How could anyone be this good looking, she wondered, And be so humble about it?

"Mirai," he said suddenly, his breath visible in the cold autumn air. "I've only really known you for a short while now, but I feel obliged to tell you this." Mirai felt her heart pound—was this to be her moment? After all those countless hours spent in agony, hoping for the beautiful boy to notice her, was she to be finally rewarded? Perhaps, she thought to herself hopefully, This was to be the silver lining of her grey cloud.

"I'm going to join the military," he said, not looking directly at her. Mirai felt herself deflate. "I'm going to avenge them all."

"Do it." Mirai said, internally laughing at herself for thinking about a petty crush when other more vital matters were yet to be settled. Looking surprised, Ryuusuke touched her face, sending a tingling feeling down her spine. Maybe, she blushed, Not so petty.

"I'm not trying to be that hero-wannabe who'll throw his life away," He said. Mirai, looking at him thoughtfully, felt an insane urge to giggle. This, she thought to herself, Felt like it came straight out of those ridiculous soap operas. But then, she poked herself, She had religiously watched them all, hadn't she.

"I understand," She said and started walking again, pulling him along with her. "But I will join as well. And don't," She added ferociously, as he opened his mouth, "Don't stop me. You're doing exactly the same thing as I am." Ryuusuke gave her a sad smile.

"I wasn't going to stop you," He said, his eyes reflecting the moonlight in only the way a human could. Could the Britannian boy's eyes, she suddenly wondered, do the same?

"Really," She said, in an unconvinced tone. She shook her head slightly; why was she suddenly thinking of the Britannian boy? Thinking of those cloudy eyes would only drag her down. But she couldn't help it; that image of the boy destroying their futures haunted her nights.

"Really." He insisted, starting to swing their hands, and wincing from his wound. "But, it does feel like we'll be throwing our lives away, doesn't it?"

There was a voice.

"You won't be throwing them away. Not if you follow me," A tall figure said, emerging from behind the ruins of a McDonalds. Good riddance, she thought offhandedly. She'd been getting tired of fat people suing the damn place.

"Who are you?" Ryuusuke said warily, stepping forward to block Mirai from the man. She doubted that a boy with a broken arm could do anything against a loaded gun—but, it was a sweet gesture.

"If you will follow me," The stranger said, "I will lead you to victory." Dressed in a strange long black coat, his face was mostly obscured by the night.

"And who are you?" Mirai scoffed disdainfully. "Zero?"

"Not quite," The man said in an amused voice, his auburn eyes glimmering. "But fairly close."

"What do you mean by that?" Ryuusuke said sharply. Mirai mused over the man's words, squinting now through the dark, hoping to see his face. How, she wondered, Could one be 'fairly close' to being Zero?

As the man walked closer, the distant lights from the candles illuminated his face. He was Japanese, she ascertained. But there was something strange about his features. Something foreign. And something familiar, too, but she couldn't place what it was.

"I will be revealing myself to the world soon," The man said. "But I need to know: will I be accepted?"

"And why," Mirai said despite herself, "Should we accept you?"

"Because only I," The man said, holding up a clenched hand, "Can change this world."

--

It was morning, when Fenleigh awoke. Or to be more precise, he was kicked awake. Feeling a sharp pain in his back, he knew fully well how he had been awoken, it practically being a ritual. Feeling the sun bathe his lithe form, he stretched, stretching his arms to the ceiling.

"Good morning," Euphemia said brightly. "It took a record twelve kicks to get you awake this time, Fenleigh." Fenleigh, wincing, could feel them all. No doubt, he grumbled to himself, They would leave bruises.

"Indeed," Zane la Britannia said, smiling as he did so. "What were you up to all night?" Fenleigh regarded his half-brother with heavily lidded eyes. With his coal black hair and intense eyes, Zane had the type of face that would leave impressions. His face was that of a predator, cutting and cold, with a penetrating icy gaze. One could say he was beautiful, in an extreme and sharpened way.

"Just…things," Fenleigh shrugged. He looked out the window momentarily, and then turned to face his two siblings once more. Euphemia was wearing a semiformal dress, silver and white, that fit her frame snuggly, before fanning out at the bottom. Zane, with gray pinstriped pants, and a formal black jacket thrown over a casual white sweater, looked strange as usual. Fenleigh himself was wearing nothing but casual plaid shorts, and consequently felt slightly embarrassed in front of his half-sister. "So why has Zane decided to grace us with his presence?" Although the two of them had once been close, they'd grown further apart as they spent less time in each other's company. Fenleigh had no idea what Zane spent his time doing now, but no longer cared. The days in which he had missed any individual were long gone.

"I came to see how the Japanese invasion was going." Zane said solemnly. "And progress is, to put it lightly, negligible." Fenleigh grunted. Although they had managed to take over Zero City, apparently too many Knightmares and supplies had been lost in the process. But he didn't see the problem: what mattered was that they had won, didn't it?

"Did you hear that Brother Leon is in Kyoto?" He said, heaving himself out of his bed. Motioning for Euphemia to leave—which she did with a harrumph—he started dressing.

"I heard from Father." Zane murmured, causing Fenleigh to wonder again why he alone had been kept in the dark. The emperor had recently started putting him in charge of several operations, and even confided in him of many of the empire's secrets. He had always come after his elder brothers—except Atticus—and although he had resented it, he had been happy that his father had finally realized his existence. And with the galvanization of his Geass, he could outshine all of the others. But how could he, when he wasn't trusted? It couldn't be that the emperor…held _that_ against him. Or did the emperor think that it would make him hesitate?

"What is the emperor doing?" Fenleigh asked cagily, as he slipped into equally casual dress: a striped navy and white sweater over dotted white pants. He looked directly at Zane as he asked the question, emphasizing his irritation at not being told such current affairs. If Zane noticed anything, however, he ignored it.

"I don't know," Zane stated. "I get a feeling that Father has been preoccupied lately."

"Preoccupied?" Fenleigh said incredulously. "What else could he be so preoccupied with, besides the colonization of Japan?"

"No more of this," Zane said guardedly. "We will be able to further discuss this issue later on. Japan's invasion was only half the reason I came. The other half was in order to see you again, brother."

"That is as likely as Atticus possessing a brain." Fenleigh said, smirking. He knew Zane's true nature: although always kind and enjoyable to be around, his inner self was much more pragmatic and intellectually colder. He was like the halfway point between Festos and Atticus, having the best of both men. "What's the real reason?"

"Alright, there might have been some false sentimentality there," Zane grinned, "But that was truly maybe a sixth of the reason for my coming here. I was forced here because the annual Royal ball is going to take place here."

"As if confirming to the rest of the world the Emperor's intentions," Fenleigh nodded. "Poor choice of location, in my opinion."

"Nothing but rubble," Zane agreed. "But the date has already been fixed for three weeks from now." Fenleigh groaned—they were in the middle of a war, and the fact that they still had the gall to throw a party straight in the middle of danger zones amazed him. "Oh yes. Our sister, Helena, sends her regards to you."

"How is school coming along for her?" Fenleigh asked politely, remembering vaguely Euphemia telling him about her. Apparently, Helena, who was currently attending a public school back in Pendragon, had been mobbed six times by the press so far.

"Brilliantly," Zane said, chuckling. "But she has to avoid the paparazzi like the plague, of course, You wouldn't believe how bold they've become." He suddenly stopped laughing. "You wouldn't of course, seeing as how you've been closeted away for so long here in Japan."

"I must admit, it wasn't a lengthy drive," Fenleigh said smoothly. "Especially in current times, you can imagine." Zane nodded in agreement, and the two continued to exchange formal small talk, until Euphemia pounded on the door impatiently.

"Well, your dressing took quite a while," Euphemia said in a hurt tone. "I was so bored, I could almost hear you two having a conversation. _Without me._"

"Preposterous," Zane said, hiding a smile as he did so. He stood up, and motioned for Fenleigh to join them. "Come, brother. We were on our way to breakfast." Fenleigh glanced at the grandfather clock in his room: made more than fifty years ago, the old oak wood it was made out of still gleamed brightly. The ticking sound filled the room when all was quiet.

"I have pressing matters to address," Fenleigh said. The 'matters' that he was referring to included signing papers for replenishment, checking on the army's status, and other similar exertions—all of which were supposed to be attended to by Atticus. But of course, it was Fenleigh who had to do it in the end. "So I will have to join you two later." Euphemia pouted, her expression shifting into something that she evidently thought was pleading.

"I guess you don't have time for us anymore, Fenleigh." Euphemia said with accusing eyes. Fenleigh suppressed a burst of exasperation at his ignorant sister, and settled for a slight frown. Zane emotionlessly observed the two for a moment, before leaving, and Fenleigh steered her out of his room, closing the door behind them. The tall clock disappeared.

"Prince Fenleigh!" A tall officer who had been hurrying through the hallway came up to him, clutching to his chest a large sheaf of papers. "Your administration is largely required, sir. There are hundreds of reports to be reviewed, and many are clamoring for your attention. In addition, the—"

"Enough," Fenleigh frowned, raising his hand. "Just tell me the major points I need to attend to."

"Ten boatloads of Knightmares just arrived today, sir. They will require your attention, and assignation. The United Federation of Nations has sent an envoy, today, and he requests a meeting with whoever is in charge of this operation. Finally, sir, the Prime Minister is waiting to discuss the strategy for the rest of the invasion." Fenleigh quickly thought through his options.

"Distribute the Knightmares equally among the squads as needed, and have…have Prince Zane deal with the envoy." Zane nodded in assent. Fenleigh, who no longer knew Zane's capabilities, would have rather sent Festos, but he could not, feeling unsure of him as he did at the moment. And he would rather have Zane represent Britannia than Atticus. His lip curled. If it had come to it, he would have even sent Euphemia over Atticus. But this discussion with the envoy was just a formality; the emperor had clearly stated that the empire would not be withdrawing. All Zane had to do was assert the power of the empire. Fenleigh just hoped he was up to it.

"And the Prime Minister, sir?"

"I will meet with him personally." Fenleigh said. He opened the door to his bedroom once more, and was met with the gleam of his clock. He would have to change into his formal military attire; the Viceraine did not react agreeably to casual dress in official discussions.

--

It was a shock when he saw him. He had not recognized him. Of course, he still looked the same—but when he had opened his eyes, he had thought: Who was he?

Zane saw through the one-way window that the U.F.N's representative had already sat himself in a plush chair, and was looking around his surroundings with a mild degree of interest. He was dark-skinned and handsome, and his tall figure seemed elegantly fit for the luxuries around him. The man was dressed in a formal black suit, and Zane started to regret his own casual outfit.

When he entered he saw a momentary blanch of surprise pass through the faces of the four officials who were there to 'protect' him. They had probably expected a more respectable figure than himself, Zane thought to himself grimly. What had Fenleigh been thinking, sending him? All he had come for was to attend that stupid ball, for which his presence was mandatory. But no, now he had to deal with a hyped envoy.

Crossing the room to sit across from the man, he made himself comfortable, but did not give any notions of having noticed him. The man, looking surprised, was the first to make a move.

"Ah…Ahem, I am the representative of the United Federation of Nations," The man said, raising his hand for a handshake, which Zane grudgingly gave.

"Well, Mr. Representative," Zane said, hoping to sound straight-to-the-point, "Why are you here?" The man's face turned blank, and he took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands.

"I should find this rather obvious, but we are here to demand your immediate withdrawal from the nation of Japan." He said smoothly, without even a hint of irritation in his tone. So, Zane thought to himself, They hadn't sent an entirely inadequate ambassador. But, he hadn't used his weapon yet.

"Why?" Zane said curtly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the four officers glance at each other apprehensively.

"Why?" The man repeated. "We, the U.F.N, are allies to Japan. And you are violating Japan."

"That is correct," Zane said. "But who are you to tell us to withdraw?"

"If you should not acquiesce to our demands, the U.F.N will aid in Japan's defense," The man said calmly, returning his handkerchief to his pocket. He obviously thought that the outcome was clear.

"Go ahead," Zane said, standing up to leave. "Do what you wish. But the empire of Britannia will never be under your commands."

"I do not believe that I have made our intentions clear—"

"You've made them crystal clear." Zane said coldly, and motioned for the officers to escort the man out. "We just don't care." The man, looking outraged, stood up.

"You don't seem to understand what will happen, boy," The man hissed, his face turning red. "The U.F.N is not a power to be trifled with. Your empire will fall, once and for all. And at its ruin, freedom will be born."

"If that day does come," Zane said. "I assure you, you won't be alive to see it." And with the implicit threat hanging in the air, the man lost his control and pounced on him. The officers let out cries of alarm, and moved to apprehend the man. But Zane, expecting the burst of violence, evaded the attack. The man crashed into the wall, and curled into a circle, moaning with pain. Blood dripped from his head.

Zane left the room, leaving the officers to take away the now confounded and bleeding man.

"That didn't go too well, did it?" Euphemia said at his side, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Zane was not surprised—Euphemia seemed to know every nook and cranny in the Babylon.

"It did," Zane said confidently. "This meeting was a mere façade, anyways, so it wouldn't have mattered how it went."

"How do you know?" Euphemia said, looking up at his face curiously. He regarded her pale pointed face pointedly.

"Otherwise," He said, "Fenleigh would never have assigned me to it."

"Fenleigh trusts you!" Euphemia protested vehemently, as the two turned a corner and passed a man pushing a cart of food along. "Oh, I'm so hungry. Hello, can we have some breakfast?" The flustered man passed two plates of hot walnut and raisin encrusted pancakes covered with a thick golden syrup. "This looks delicious doesn't it, Zane?"

"It does," He agreed, amused by her inability to stay focused. Euphemia obviously hadn't changed much from the last time he'd seen her. He couldn't say the same for his brother, however. "It would be a tad better with some bacon, don't you think?"

"Really," Euphemia continued, pulling him to an empty room with round tables. She sat down, setting her food on the surface with a loud clatter. "Or at least more than he does Atticus and Festos. And certainly more than me," The man pushing the cart followed in, and poured them some juice, before Zane waved him out.

"Yes," Zane said hesitatingly. "I was wondering about that. I can see why he wouldn't pick Atticus, or," He said with a smile, "You. But Festos—didn't Fenleigh used to worship him? That's what I gathered when I visited Queen Layla's villa."

"Something happened yesterday," Euphemia said softly, cutting her pancake into small pieces. The sound of knife on china grated loudly, piercing his ears. Zane winced—he'd always been sensitive to such sounds.

"I see." Zane said, chewing on his soaked pancake. But yesterday had not changed Fenleigh. That, he ascertained to himself, Was at least true. A single day couldn't make a difference so profound. He could remember a far different time—a time, he thought to himself, That perhaps may have been the only period of time where he had been happy.

Maybe seven or eight years ago, he had visited Queen Layla's villa for an extended period of time. It was located in Japan, somewhere in the suburbs, he remembered. The villa now was in ruins ever since Queen Layla had committed suicide, but back then, it had been a warmth-filled place. Surrounded by an orange farm, you could almost taste the tangy taste in the air. But inside, the strong scent was replaced by an elegant and cleansing one. The scent, he remembered, had been part of his reason for staying there so long.

But most of his reason had been Fenleigh, his brother, who he hadn't known very well. Always one step behind his elder, more gregarious brother, Zane hadn't noticed him much during parties. But at his home, Zane had been surprised to learn that Fenleigh was rather like himself. With a love for animals and for rebellious tricks, the two had gotten along instantly. They'd hidden in the trees for countless times, laughing, as they rained oranges all over the snooty daughter of Gottwald.

But after several months, Zane had been obliged to leave the peaceful villa. It had been time for him to return home, time to return to all the problems he had left behind. He remembered the pain he'd felt, as if something was perforating his stomach. His unhappiness had only been slightly eased by the fact that he could now get away from Fenleigh's cruel older brother, Festos. Spirits dampened, Fenleigh had run towards him before he left, and kissed him on his cheek.

But contact disappeared between them. They'd rarely seen each other after that, kept busy by what their royal births duty bound them to. Fenleigh had all but disappeared from the public eye and even from the rest of the royal family ever since Queen Layla's death.

And now, after all of those years, Zane had found a different person. The new Fenleigh's eyes were different. Steeled and cold, Zane did not know what his brother had went through. But the old Fenleigh that he had known, had loved, was gone now.

Zane la Britannia set down his fork and knife on the table, and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. Both of his eyes glowed a bright red, two sigils burning like coals within them.


	5. The World Has Turned And Left Me Here

Commentary:

Short chapter.

Noted mistake in the last chapter: Leon is not Viceraine. He is the Prime Minister.

Disclaimer: I do not own the setting and historical notions used, or the following characters used in the story: Lelouch, Zero, Nunnally, Schneizel, Karen, Ougi, Villetta, Gottwold, Lloyd, Cecile, ....I could go on. But I won't.

Chapter Five: The World Has Turned And Left Me Here

_Weezer_

Mirai did not know how the stranger was granted an audience with the prime minister. Neither did she know how she had come to be there as well, with Ryuusuke. But there the three of the were, seated across from the man that the nation followed. Prime Minister Ougi.

Everyone had been evacuated to Hiroshima, where the Britannian forces had not yet attacked. The prime minister's command center had been relocated to a private library, generously lent by a wealthy sympathizer. They were in the study room, where there was a glass coffee table, and several antique armchairs. A pretty young woman had served them tea in delicate cups, each with a handle to stick one's pinky through, and enjoy. The amiable atmosphere that the room gave off did not agree with Mirai, who felt out of place.

The prime minister, currently dressed in a somber dark suit, was a famous figure, and had been revered for his part in the Zero Revolution. He had been the right-hand man of Zero himself, and after Japan had gained its independence, became its representative. Although if you'd seen him on a street, you wouldn't have known him—with an indistinctive and average face and frame, he looked like every other Japanese man you'd see on the street. But perhaps that was why he was so revered; he represented every man, every woman, every person.

Zero, although the greatest hero of Japan, had come to be belonged by the entire world as a symbol of justice. Just thinking about Zero gave her a warm feeling—even if he was a revolutionary, it was all thanks to him that she had been able to live so peacefully until now. She had to wonder—would Zero, whose whereabouts had been unknown for several years, return to Japan, and destroy the Britannians once more?

"I believe you understand your predicament," Ougi said. "You are a prince of Britannia, and you are right in our hands. We could use you as a hostage." Mirai, confused at what she was hearing, blinked. Ryuusuke, who was sitting next to her, had a grim and set expression. He had been strangely quiet ever since the man had revealed himself.

What did the prime minister mean by prince of Britannia? Had something momentous happened in the short time between their encounter with the stranger, and now?

"I am not important enough to the emperor," The man said coolly, "So that would be futile." Mirai gaped at him, and stood up with a clatter.

"Wait a minute…who are you?" She asked the man. By the light of the room, the shadows of his face had come into focus, and she saw what she had not seen before. This confirmed that foreign yet familiar paradoxical feeling that she had felt. "You're not Japanese, are you?" The man smiled thinly. His dark hair was cropped short, and his bangs fell into his eyes. With his strange auburn eyes, and a foreign tilt to his head, it was now pretty obvious that he was, at least, not pure Asian.

"I am a half," He said calmly. Startled, Mirai fell back to her seat. "Britannian through my father, the emperor of Britannia, and Japanese through my mother, an honorary Britannian."

"Festos vu Britannia," Ougi nodded. "'The link connecting Britannia and Japan forever' was what they called you, if memory serves right."

"Of course," The man, the prince of Britannia, laughed. "It was quite publicized when my father married a Japanese woman. But his sole reason, I must imagine, was for such political reasons."

"Well, then." Ougi said, eyes steeling. "What is your reason for being here? I can't imagine what a Britannian, even a half such as yourself, could want."

"I am here to offer a preposition," The prince said. The prime minister blinked.

"What kind of preposition could this be?" He said warily.

"Although I may be a half," The prince said seriously, "I consider myself Japanese." Stunned silence followed his words, and understanding asserted itself in the prime minister's eyes.

"Ah," He said quietly.

"Yes, you can see it now, can't you?" The prince, Festos vu Britannia, said, and stood up from his chair between Ryuusuke and Mirai. He slowly began to pace back and forth behind them. "As Karen Kouzuki did, I too will renounce my Britannian blood. And I will lead Japan to victory over Britannia."

"Was it you who gave the command to withdraw the Britannian forces?" Ougi asked.

"Indeed," Festos said. The two men nodded at each other; apparently, they had come to an agreement.

"Wait here," Ryuusuke suddenly broke in, jumping up as well. "I realize that it is not in my place," He mumbled, "But I can't believe we just believe this Britannian. He comes along, says he's against Britannia, and we accept him like this?"

"I was under the impression that these two were your followers," The prime minister remarked.

"The past is not to be dwelt over." Festos said calmly.

"That is true," Ougi said with a strange look on his face.

Mirai sat in her chair, mind racing through possible reasons for why the prime minister had told such blatant lies. Was it a code of some sort? Maybe the prime minister, who secretly shared her disbelief of the Britannian, was feeding the man lies. And when the Britannian spy returned to the empire, he would be regarded as insane. She giggled to herself in an ironically fanatical manner.

"You two," Festos ordered. "Leave us." Not having reached a conclusion about the prime minister's delusional words, Mirai frowned, and stood up to argue. Before she could say anything, however, Ryuusuke grabbed her arm and led her to the door.

"Let go of me—"

"Mirai." He said quietly. Eyes flashing, as she turned angry for the first time in her life at Ryuusuke, she tugged herself away from him. But as she looked at his eyes, she dropped her irritation. How could she stay angry at such a beautiful soul?

Leaving the two men to discuss the course of action the war would take, a Japanese recruiting officer led them to a small room.

"Where is this?" Ryuusuke asked.

"You mentioned previously," The officer said, "That you were interested in joining the army. You will be reviewed, and then given uniforms and assignments." Mirai was surprised—she'd imagined the entry process to take at least a few days, not a few hours. It appeared that the army was short handed, and needed quick recruits. This, she thought to herself grimly, Did not bode well for Japan. Even if they had a prince of Britannia on their side—which she did not believe—Japan was in a weak position.

"What if…what if I don't want to join the army?" Mirai couldn't help asking. As she thought of her parents and her little brother, she felt her eyes turn red, and her throat turn dry. She cleared her throat.

"It's your choice," The officer said, peering at her curiously. Mirai chewed the inside of her mouth, feeling like an idiot. Silence hung heavily in the air, and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Ryuusuke frown. "I don't have all day, kid. What will it be?" The officer said impatiently.

"Mirai," Ryuusuke said quietly. Mirai, folding her arms in her discomfort, turned towards him. But to her surprise, he enfolded her in a warm hug that set her heart pounding. "Don't do this if you don't want to. Keep Ribbon company in the hospital…help the wounded people…or just eat and sleep…but you don't have to kill people." Mirai flushed; Ryuusuke had gotten exactly what she had been so scared to do.

Of course, she'd played her share of MMORPG (Multi-Massive Online Role Playing Game) where she had to kill, and she'd had no qualms about that. But she'd always killed cute little monsters that hadn't bled—would she be ready to actually kill an actual flesh body?

Mirai shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, officer, but I'm ready now." The officer, who had been impatiently scanning the room, gave an irritated sigh at her words.

"Follow me," He said in a tired voice. They were all tired, she noticed. All of the people rushing around—what were they all doing?

Someone was sitting in a swivel chair in the room that they were deposited in. It was mostly empty, except for a rectangular polished table, and the chair. There were no windows. Mirai and Ryuusuke stood nervously next to each other, and waited for the person to turn around. After a few minutes of unbroken silence, the figure finally swiveled around. Mirai, to her surprise, realized that she knew the person.

"Ruki!" She blurted out. Ruki, sitting in the swivel chair with both of his legs heavily bandaged, blinked up at her. Even with his grey blue hair and slightly darker than average skin, his silent behavior had always dissipated him in crowds. But here, she noticed, the slightly submissive and quiet boy had changed into a commanding power.

"Mirai. Ryuu." He said, his impassive face crumpling into one of relief. "So you two are alright."

"Yeah," Ryuusuke said quietly. "And Ribbon's going to be alright. But…well, did you come to the memorial service?"

"No." Ruki said, raising a massive pile of papers that he had evidently been reading through. "I didn't have time. I wish I could have."

"So how'd you get here?" Mirai said, perplexed.

"I work here for my father," Ruki laughed—it was a relaxed and strong laugh, she noticed. Far different from the quite and nervous chuckles she had previously heard from him. He regarded her silent surprise for a moment. "You did know, didn't you? That my father is the prime minister?"

"What?" Mirai said, eyes widening with shock. "You?"

"You didn't know?" Ryuusuke frowned, turning to look at her.

"Wait—so you knew?" Mirai said.

"Well, yeah. I mean, his surname is Ougi. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know." Ryuusuke said in an amused voice. Great, Mirai hissed angrily at herself. Now Ryuusuke will think you're an idiot. Just great.

Ruki carefully observed the two of them for a second, before changing the subject. "About your recruitment, do you have any official records proving that you are who you are? This is just official procedure, mind."

Looking through their pockets, Ryuusuke provided a driving permit, and Mirai produced a student ID card. Looking at the small plastic card with her face on it, she felt like she couldn't remember who that smiling girl was. What would that girl have done, she asked herself, If she saw people murdered in cold blood right in front of her?

"What's your role in the…army, Ruki?" Mirai asked, unsure of what to call it.

"The White Knights," Ruki corrected. "That is the new name that we have chosen for our defense against Britannia."

"White Knights?" Ryuusuke frowned. "Why not just the Black Knights, again?"

"Whereas the Black Knights were a revolutionary group, deigned to overthrow Britannia from the shadows, the White Knights are not terrorists." Ruki explained. "We will resist Britannia in the light of the world." He returned their records, after having input their information into the new White Knights' database. "I would have worked on the field," Ruki said disappointedly, staring at the paperwork around him, "If my mother hadn't gone hysterical over my leg wounds." He patted his legs, wincing as he did so.

"They'll be ok, right?" Mirai asked concernedly.

"Hopefully," Ruki grimaced. "But even if I lose them, I'll always have a job," He added in a light tone.

"I don't think so," Ryuusuke smiled. "Or haven't you noticed that all of the Britannians living in Japan lost their jobs?"

"Britannians?" Mirai frowned. "What does that have to do with Ruki?"

"My mother is Britannian, you know." Ruki stated. Mirai immediately felt like an idiot again; it was obvious, with his unique hair and skin color, that his blood was mixed. Ryuusuke staring at her in disbelief was not helping her at all.

"Is that why your father is so impartial to halfs?" Mirai muttered.

"You mean Festos?" Ruki nodded. "No, but my father used to know him a while ago. You know. When Zero was still around." The three of them were silent, and for a minute, only the sound of his tapping keys could be heard. "It's a good thing that all Japanese schools were required to give basic Knightmare piloting lessons," Ruki finally commented. "There just isn't enough time for complete recruit training. Father was completely against it, but Parliament overrode his veto. Paranoia worked for us this time, though, huh?"

Mirai bit her lip. She doubted that those lessons on the basics of piloting a Knightmare would help her.

"But don't worry, we don't send you out completely untrained."

"So there is some training?" Ryuusuke inquired.

"Sort of." Ruki said. He gave them a thick paper manual, with a big grin on his face. "Here it is: Follow orders. Consider yourself trained."

--

But as it turned out, to Mirai's relief, Ruki had been kidding. For three weeks, she toiled away at a training camp. Half of her stay there was devoted to the shooting range and the survival courses, where her aim was honed. This was to ensure her safety in the worst-case scenario—where she'd been forced to eject from her Knightmare, and was apprehended by the enemy on foot. The other half was devoted to 360-degree simulations of famous battles, where she controlled a Knightmare and attempted to destroy as many enemies as possible without getting killed.

"You are supposed to destroy all of the markers!" The burly instructor, named Hitsushi, roared at her through the monitor.

"But they were civilians—" Mirai protested from her capsule simulation pod.

"Who were carrying firearms! City clothes don't make a person a civilian, trainee."

"…Yes, sir."

"There is no time! Training won't be over until Hazui here learns to obey orders!"

The rest of the trainees glared daggers at her, and simultaneously groaned. Mirai felt sick to her stomach, remembering how carefree and easy she'd been able to feel just a few weeks ago.

Ryuusuke, to her surprise, was also receiving low marks. From what she could remember, he'd generally been the best at the simulation arcades, and his name had topped every scoreboard.

"That's pretty weird," She said weakly, three days into training. "I thought you'd be good at this." Ryuusuke shrugged in reply, and wearily slurped his warm noodles.

After waking up at 5 A.M, they had underwent an exhausting five hour simulation test, followed by three hours training at the shooting range. It was only noon, and the sun was still high in the sky, but she felt ready for sleep. The two of them were situated by themselves at a lone table in the open—it was cold, but privacy was worth it. Mirai shivered. Ryuusuke, noticing, unwrapped his long grey scarf, and tied it around her. Too tired to protest, Mirai bobbed her head in thanks, and slurped her noodles in a lousy attempt to hide her blushing face. Ryuusuke, with an odd expression on his face, looked at her for a moment. Feeling self conscious, Mirai stared back at him, before he grinned, and picked up his chopsticks once more.

It was interactions like these that initially kept her going. But at the dawn of the fifth day, Ryuusuke was gone, only leaving behind the grey scarf.

She did not attempt to make friends, hardening herself for what she would have to do—kill. She did not think that she could stand watching any more of her friends die. So, withdrawing into her protective shell, she began to think of the Britannian boy more and more, and somehow drew comfort from it.

Who was he? she wondered. Why had he been there, and why had he killed them? At this thought, she immediately felt like an idiot. Of course, she said to herself, You threatened him first. He was defending himself. But…Why had she noticed him, and sent Tsuyoshi running after him? If she had never found him, they could all have gone on, and have lived.

She knew then, that she would meet the boy again. She would face his hallowed face, and then all mysteries would become clear.

At night, Mirai's exhaustion did not prevent her from having nightmares. The cruel face of the 99th emperor laughed psychotically at her, shooting everyone around her. Ryuusuke fell. Ruki fell. And for some reason, that Britannian boy who brought death, fell as well. The imposing gun was turned to her, and immobilized with fear, she sat there, helpless. But Zero appeared, and her hopes soared, knowing that he would come to save her. Except, when he reached the emperor, their faces melted away, and their bodies coalesced. And together, they shot her.

Screaming, Mirai, wrapped in the grey scarf, woke up in her cot, clawing at the thin sheets. In the dark, the other recruits muttered in their sleep, shuffling around in the too small cots that they were all in. Japan couldn't afford any luxuries at the moment.

Every night was the same.

Time did not pause for her as she underwent her training, however. While struggling at the shooting range, and spending hours in simulation, Britannia had completely taken over Zero City, Hoshin, and Osaka, sending millions of Japanese fleeing. On the bright side, however, defense of Kyoto had been successful. Kyoto, with its vast resources and central military base, was an important city to maintain under control. When news of Kyoto's success had reached her camp, they all celebrated, and were given the day off.

"Japan—banzai!" They all cried out towards the sky.

The next day, Mirai became a full-fledged member of the White Knights.

"Already?" Mirai said hesitantly, as the sergeant handed her a simple white uniform to replace her training outfit. "But it hasn't even been a month. I was expecting a few more weeks, at least…"

"Getting cold feet?" The sergeant asked her.

"No." She said, turning red and looking down at her feet.

"Well, you're in trouble," The sergeant said, not unkindly. "There will be a massive infiltration assault in Zero City. Everyone's being assigned there. It will be our best chance at regaining the capital."

"Infiltration…"

--

"Kyoto was an abject failure," The man said grimly. With neck length emerald green hair that hugged his neck and hardened russet eyes, the man exuded an aura of confidence and strength even through the screen.

"I am assuming that you've finally retreated." Fenleigh said to Leon du Britannia, who nodded. "So Kyoto will be the last city to fall."

"And in such a confrontation," Leon frowned, "We must prepare for a victory. For defeat is not possible. Not now."

Fenleigh sighed; even the brother he admired the most, Leon, was starting to feel the pressure. But of course, how could he not? Over the series of discussions they'd held since the day after the second invasion, Leon's side had been increasingly filled with defeat and talk of retreat.

"Will you and your remaining forces be coming to Zero City?" Fenleigh asked, tapping his fingers together. He would appreciate the help that Leon would be able to provide. Atticus had been proving himself as worthless as ever; Fenleigh had assigned him paperwork to sign. Zane had been proving himself as intelligent and cunning as Fenleigh had remembered, but lacked the desire to win, which was what Fenleigh desperately needed. Festos had mysteriously disappeared, which troubled Fenleigh. And as the Japanese forces—now calling themselves the White Knights—suddenly strengthened, Fenleigh could feel that there was a new source of power that they all rallied around. But it couldn't be, he thought to himself.

"I would have had to, anyhow," Leon said, chuckling, his anxieties dissipating for the moment. "There is the ball."

"Ah yes," Fenleigh scowled. "The ball. Tomorrow, isn't it?" Leon laughed.

"We can further discuss this issue of Kyoto later. For now, find a nice suit." Leon raised a finger to terminate the connection.

"Wait—Leon," Fenleigh said hurriedly. "I apologize for speaking of such personal matters during an official discussion, but I have to know now. Do you know where Festos is?"

"Festos?" Leon frowned. "I thought he was with you, in the Babylon."

"No," Fenleigh said, shaking his head. "He's been missing for a few weeks now."

"Well," Leon said, raising his eyebrows. "Festos has always been like that. Independent and impulsive, I imagine he must have gotten that from his mother." Fenleigh jerked his head. "Ah. Is that still a sensitive topic for you?"

"No," Fenleigh said, his irritated voice contradicting his words. "If she was alive, it would have presented issues, anyways."

"Indeed," Leon said thoughtfully. "Seeing as she was Japanese."

"How is the emperor?" Fenleigh said.

"Why don't you ask Father that yourself?" He said in an exasperated tone.

"I can't contact him," Fenleigh said quietly. "Do you think—"

"That Father is feeling uncertain of where your loyalties lie, because you are a half?" Leon said, realizing where Fenleigh was heading to immediately. "Perhaps."

"But that's wrong," Fenleigh said, pounding his fist on the armrest. "I am Britannian, and I will never go against it. And I will prove it to Father by winning Japan for the empire."

"So you are doing this merely to prove that you are Britannian?" Leon said sharply. "Don't be so childish. There is more at stake than your pride."

"I am not being childish, brother."

"Whatever it is, you need not prove anything. You have already proved yourself trustworthy," Leon said.

"And why not Father?" Fenleigh demanded. "Why won't Father trust me?"

"He has reasons, I'd imagine." Leon said. He stood up. "This talk tires me. Tomorrow, Fenleigh."


	6. You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us

Commentary: Kind of rushed through it, but I don't plan on making this fanfic very long, so here we go. And we finally reveal who managed to keep together the empire that Lelouch hysterically died for... (rewatch the scene in the final episode where he trips over and falls down the float).

Disclaimer: I do not own the setting and historical notions used, or the following characters used in the story: Lelouch, Zero, Nunnally, Schneizel, Karen, Ougi, Villetta, Gottwold, Lloyd, Cecile, ....I could go on. But I won't.

Chapter Six: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

_My Chemical Romance_

_Truth and hope in our Fatherland_

_And death to every foe_

_Our soldiers shall not pause to rest_

_We vow our loyalty_

_Old traditions they will abide_

_Arise young heroes_

_Our past inspires noble deeds_

_All Hail Britannia_

_Immortal beacon shows the way_

_Step forth, seek glory_

_Hoist your swords high into the clouds_

_Hail Britannia_

_Our Emperor stands astride this world_

_He'll vanquish every foe_

_His truth and justice shine so bright_

_All hail his brilliant light_

_Never will he be overthrown_

_Like mountains and sea_

_His bloodline immortal and pure_

_All Hail Britannia_

_So let his wisdom guise our way_

_Go forth and seek glory_

_Hoist your swords high into the clouds_

_Hail Britannia_

It was a beautiful night, with clear skies that revealed a canvas precisely the same color as the Albireo. The few visible shards of light were outshone by the flooding lights of the huge mansion. A rainbow of colors dotted the area before it, and the sounds of humans could be heard for miles around. Thousands of bodies were mingling, laughing as they did so, and disappearing in the masses. A bodyguard's nightmare.

The inside of the huge marble mansion was lavishly decorated with artifacts and antiques, breathtaking masterpieces, and the most exquisite delicacies from all around the world. The doorway and entrance itself had cost millions, and the stairway that led out into the open itself was a work of art. In the time of peace between Britannia and Japan, the mansion had been the home of Princess Nunnally and the orphans that she had taken care of. But since her disappearance, the magnificent mansion had become a mere vacation home for any royal who had cared to visit.

The mansion itself spanned two acres in either direction, and was surrounded by stretches of endless orchards. Located on the outskirts of Zero City, the mansion was nevertheless well fortified for defense. Added to the latest thermal and nuclear surveillance and security measures, were dozens of Knightmares, all patrolling the sky above in as silent a manner as possible.

Festos, Fenleigh noticed, was not there.

"This is the perfect opportunity for a terrorist attack," Prince Leon growled. Situated in the grand entrance, he sipped champagne in a glass, standing alert for the slightest signs of danger. Fenleigh, standing next to him—wearing a stiff white suit—did not say anything, but scanned the masses of nobles in front of him with a keen eye. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Relax, Leon," A woman laughed, joining them. She had a willowy figure, being tall, and her silvery blond curls cascaded all around her. Second princess of Britannia, Rapunzel le Britannia.

"Rapunzel," Leon nodded at her. "How are you?" Rapunzel let out a tinkling laughter of amusement.

"Why so formal?" She said, snatching his glass and gulping its contents singularly. "Hmm. Not bad," She commented on its taste. "Although I do prefer mine a bit stronger."

"Are there any news from Pendragon, sister?" Fenleigh asked. Rapunzel made a face, and crossed her arms over her silk dress.

"Nothing terribly interesting. Everything's happening in Japan, it seems," She scowled. "You two are having all the fun."

"Fun?" Leon grimaced. "War is not fun, Rapunzel."

"Oh, come now, don't be like that," She said lightly. "Don't bring trauma to a party, lads." An equally tall man with a small mustache offered her his hand, which she then took. The two disappeared among the swirling figures to dance. Fenleigh looked at Leon. Leon, although extremely uptight and serious when discussing the war, seemed much more at ease and calmer now. It seemed, he thought, That the emperor's idea of having the ball now was not so misplaced.

"There you are," A tired voice said from behind him. He looked around to see a slightly bedraggled Euphemia, wearing a short strapless dress.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Leon demanded. As Euphemia's older brother, Leon tended to be protective of her.

"I wasn't talking to you," Euphemia said rudely, before turning to Fenleigh with a pleading expression. "Save me! These people are so…well, let's put it this way: if nobility is like this, how are commoners?"

"What happened?" Fenleigh asked, bemused.

"Here he comes again," Euphemia cried, and flung herself behind him and Leon. A second later, a young man with a pitiful mustache appeared in front of them.

"Come on, Euphemia, give me a dance, won't you?" The burly young man said laughingly, reaching for her.

"Go away, Ivan!" She shouted angrily. Leon snorted, and turned away to ask for another glass of wine from a passing waiter.

"I won't be doing anything to you," The young man complained, with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He was not a bad man, Fenleigh decided. Except he was used to getting what he wanted. "Not here, anyways…"

"What are you doing? Help me!" Euphemia said indignantly, poking his back.

"Oh, who's this? Prince Fenleigh, I'm assuming?" The man said, turning his attention to him.

"More people seem to recognize me than I thought," Fenleigh murmured. Having been removed from the public eye, it still startled him when people recognized him. "Well, Ivan," He said, his left eye glowing red. "Leave Euphemia alone, won't you?"

"Ah," Ivan said, his eyes glowing slightly red. "Alright then. Goodbye, Euphemia." And leaving Euphemia perplexed, he slinked away, disappearing into the crowd.

"That's slightly depressing," Euphemia sniffed. "I yell at him all night, and he won't leave me alone. But you say one thing to him, and he goes?" Fenleigh scanned the room in search of what he was looking for. "I can tell you're not paying attention, Fenleigh. And as your punishment, you're going to dance with me."

"If you wanted to dance, then why didn't you just do it with Ivan?" Fenleigh muttered, but led her to the dance floor, and wrapped his hand around her waist. The music was your typical Romantic music, being fast paced with a pulsing rhythm, and above all, passionate. The violins and cellos sung, and hundreds of couples swung around in circles, casting light across the room. He noticed that many of the musicians and waiters were Japanese prisoners, and beneath a cheeriness a child could see through, he could sense a smoldering hatred. He shook his head. Was it so necessary to flaunt their new victory?

At the end of the song, Fenleigh gratefully released Euphemia, and returned to where he had been standing before. Leon was preoccupied now, surrounded by single Britannian women. Fenleigh smiled thinly at them, and was beckoning for a waiter to bring him a glass, when the Britannian national anthem began to play. Fenleigh's hand dropped to his side, and he swung around to see the 100th emperor of Britannia, his father, enter the mansion.

Fenleigh made his way to where his father was standing, at the entrance. The rest of the royal family, with the exception of Festos, was already there, situated in a V formation in front of the emperor. Leon, as the first prince, kneeled at the vertex directly in front of the emperor.

"His Majesty, Emperor Schneizel el Britannia!" A young man, dressed in white robes, announced from his side. Fenleigh narrowed his eyes.

"All Hail Britannia," Schneizel said calmly. His father, once a handsome man, was now starting to show the passage of time in his lined face. But he exuded an aura of serenity and wisdom—an aura that Fenleigh had come to love, and simultaneously despise.

"All Hail Schneizel!" All the nobility cried out in response. "All Hail Schneizel!"

Fenleigh, wondering at his boldness, then got up on shaky knees, and kneeled right next to Leon. For a shocked second, as attention was focused on him, he felt a cold shiver run through his body.

"Fenleigh!" Leon said, eyes narrowing. The emperor looked down at Fenleigh with a faded interest. Seeing his indifference, fury pierced his heart, and he lowered his head to hide the smoldering anger in his eyes. So, he thought to himself, Father hasn't changed.

"Your Majesty," Fenleigh said. "I would like to request a favor."

"What can be so important," Schneizel said mildly, "That you must disrupt us all?"

"I am talking about the future of Britannia, Your Majesty," He said, voice shaking with contained anger. The mansion was deadly silent, as he realized, that currently hundreds of nobility and hence the rest of the world, were listening to his words. "I do not know where you have been preoccupied, but I can see that your interests no longer lie with the battles in Japan. I realize that you do not trust me, and I grant, I have not given reason for your trust. But I now entreat you to give me a chance to prove myself, and allow me to lead the colonization of Japan."

Murmuring swept through the hall, and Fenleigh could feel their gazes fixated on him. He felt cold, as every molecule in his body realized what he had just said, and screamed at him to hide. But, he told himself fiercely, He would not stand still and let everything happen to him again.

"And how will you prove your trust?" Schneizel said. The hushed conversations surrounding them escalated. Fenleigh tensed, and reached for the object hidden inside his coat. So, he thought, The emperor hadn't trusted him after all.

"By winning Japan for Britannia," Fenleigh said, taking out a gun. With a resounding crack, he shot the young man in white robes. Bright red stained the shocked man's chest, and he staggered back. There was a cacophony of screams surrounding him, and the man, dying, took out a gun from the folds of his robes with trembling hands. Pointing it at the emperor, who looked unperturbed by the recent events, the man attempted to pull the trigger. But Fenleigh shot the man again, and the assassin, flung backwards, sunk to the ground. He motioned for the bodyguards to search the body.

"And what do you signify, here?" Schneizel said. They calmly stood still looking at each other, separated from the waves of panic that thundered around them.

"That is my undying loyalty, Father." Fenleigh said, feeling a strange tranquility enveloping his body. "I will pave the way to victory. No matter the losses and blood, I will triumph. For Britannia."

The puddle of blood before them steadily increased in size.

--

It was a beautiful night, Mirai thought. Too beautiful a night for the massacre that was about to take place. It appeared that the royal family was throwing a ball in celebration of their recent victory. Her face twisted in anger. Japan was being destroyed, and the Britannians were partying?

But they would pay. Despite the security measures, with the help of their new benefactor, Festos vu Britannia, the White Knights had obtained boatloads of Knightmares that would be able to blend with the guards. And while the Britannians were dancing and drinking wine, the White Knights would come in and obliterate them all. They even had a crack at killing the royal family, which would almost certainly end the war once and for all.

But she had to wonder. This was going to be too easy, wasn't it? It was too convenient that the White Knights could have hidden in their positions surrounding the mansion so easily. Too convenient to have obtained those Knightmares, and mingled with other Britannian Knightmares. But having voiced her opinion, the commander, Tatami, had clapped her on the shoulder.

"Not everything in war is a complex thing," Commander Tatami had said. "War is decided by a single event, dependant on luck."

"Luck," She murmured to herself grimly. Her new Guardian, painted white and red, was located relatively nearby the entrance of the mansion, and she could hear everything that was going on. When the emperor of Britannia himself walked past her, she had felt tempted to shoot him right there. But such a rash action would be unforgivable; she would be immediately attacked by the other Knightmares, and the operation would be blown. Even if she was able to successfully kill the emperor, there would always be another prince or princess to take his place. No, she shook her head, Just an assassination would not be enough.

Even with the death of Lelouch the Evil, the Britannian Empire had remained intact. For a while, most of the royal family was incapacitated for a reason unexplained in her textbooks, and under Princess Nunnally, it had appeared for a while that the empire would disintegrate, and absolute monarchy be replaced with liberalism.

However, with her disappearance, and the sudden seize in power by Schneizel el Britannia, the empire had returned to how it had been before, during the 98th emperor's reign.

She was startled out of her train of thought by a series of screams that flooded the mansion. Confused—for the ambush had not yet started—she zoomed in on the screen. It appeared something had happened; the people who had just minutes before been welcoming the emperor were now circling around something. For a moment, her excitement flared up in the hope that the emperor had been successfully assassinated by the White Knights' double agent, but it dissipated when she clearly saw the emperor standing at the edge of the throng.

"Damn it," The commander swore over the public link. "He failed. It appears that somebody recognized him as an imposter."

"When are we going to attack, sir?" Mirai asked nervously, biting her lip.

"Don't be getting nervous. I know most of you are fresh, but just follow orders."

"Yes, sir." She echoed the rest of the unit. "I just have a—"

"White Knights!" The unmistakable voice of Festos vu Britannia roared over the communication line. "It is now time to take back your city!" Mirai stopped biting her lip, and moved to biting her fingernails. This biting thing, she noticed, Was becoming a habit. Hearing the half-Britannian shout words of encouragement, she felt another flicker of doubt. But there was no time to think about it. "Attack!"

Whirling her Guardian up from its crouched position, with a jarring sound, she plunged the maser vibrating sword through the nearest enemy. All around her, Britannian Knightmares turned on each other, the defeated crumpling to the ground, and the winner moving on to kill more, before they too, in turn, were defeated. Eyes glazed, she saw several of the White Knights crash through the huge glass windows of the mansion, and heard earsplitting screams burst through the air.

The Britannians and the White Knights—they all looked the same, didn't they?

She saw a stream of wild eyed nobles pouring out through the door, only to see the chaos that was ensuing among the Britannians and the White Knights. One particularly fat old woman, wearing a beautiful jewel encrusted dress, appeared to have become overwhelmed by the events. Screaming, she ran towards the battlefield. Seconds later, a Knightmare—a White Knight—was pushed back by a Britannian; tumbling backwards, it stepped on the woman. And the woman, in her golden dress, was gone.

Mirai turned to look away before the Knightmare could move its foot, but her eyes were inadvertently drawn to the spot. Seeing the remains, bile crept up her throat, but she forced it down, blinking back tears. It was a Britannian, Mirai said to herself angrily. A fat, ugly, old woman who didn't do anything in life.

"Mirai, what are you doing?" A voice, belonging to a fellow recruit named Satsuki, said angrily, as he shot down a Britannian Guardian that had been about to destroy her Knightmare. Blinking rapidly, Mirai forced herself to return to the battle.

"Sorry," She muttered—but no one heard her. Every Knightmare around her were suddenly split in two. She blinked. Her own Knightmare was beeping urgently, and the pod was turning a dangerous red. She looked at her monitor. It was screaming "Auto Eject in Five Seconds".

Body turning numb, she sat stiffly in her seat. Ejecting out with a hissing sound, her heart thumped loudly.

Had she almost just died?

Landing roughly on the earth.

Body shaking, she crawled out. Wrapping her arms around her cold body, she frantically searched for a place to hide. Somewhere—Anywhere—

Suddenly, she tripped. Dumbfounded, she looked down to see that Ryuusuke's grey scarf, which she had taken with her for luck, had become entangled at her feet. Brushing the dirt off of it, she wrapped herself with it, trying to remember his face. But only the face of the old woman would come to mind.

Calmed, Mirai peered back at the mansion. She was not very far away; if she walked about ten minutes, she could reach the doors. But—what had destroyed all of the Knightmares in one swoop? It had destroyed both the White Knights and the Britannians so quickly, she had not been able to see it. How could anything move that fast? she wondered to herself. But it must have been gone now; the screaming had now for the most part ceased, sparks flew lazily into the air from the broken Knightmares on the ground, and…

Figures in white uniforms were being rounded up. Eyes widening, she gasped, as she saw the White Knights slowly being captured by the Britannians. They'd all been ejected, she remembered. But where were the foot soldiers? The plan had been for the White Knights to round up all of the royals, and keep them as hostage. If everything had gone as planned, their Knightmares would have been able to keep the Britannian Knightmares at bay, until they had successfully taken over the mansion.

She shook her head in confusion. They had barely started the attack, when they'd all been destroyed. Had it been a trap? Balling her hands, she crept behind the legs of a former Vincent. I knew it, she seethed to herself. Festos—he'd been plotting this all along, trying to capture the resistance in one swoop! That idiot prime minister—why had he believed a prince of Britannia, for god's sake? Hadn't he learned anything from the reign of Lelouch the Evil? Britannia was not to be trusted. Not even a half.

Well, a calm and rational part of her said. What about Ruki?

Ruki is completely different, Mirai said angrily to herself. First off, he's not a prince. And second, he was raised in Japan!

Festos was raised in Japan, too, wasn't he? The other Her said. That's what Ryuusuke told you, when he was still here. She winced internally. Oh, that was a bad thing to say, wasn't it? the voice said in a sorry voice.

In this inner turmoil, she did not hear the footsteps coming from behind her, until it was too late.

"You there," A quiet voice said. Mirai, feeling the unmistakable cold feeling of a gun at her neck, stiffened. "Hands up, and turn around." Her eyes flickering about her surroundings, she guessed that there was only one person behind her. Wasn't there a weapon that she could use? She should have listened to Ruki, she thought to herself furiously, And took the gun. But no, she had had to get all righteous.

--

"_Mirai," He said, coming up from behind her. She turned around, and delight shone in her face._

"_Ruki!" She cried, throwing her arms around him. Sobs started to wrack her body, being so relieved at seeing a familiar face._

"_Mirai," He said, in a surprised voice, embracing her back. After a few moments, he gently peeled her off. "Where's Ryuusuke?" _

"_Ryuusuke?" She said, wiping a tear away embarrassedly. "He disappeared in the first week. I thought he'd been reassigned…?"_

_With an odd look on his face, Ruki didn't answer. "Anyways," He said, changing the topic. "You should take this gun. Just in case, you know." He raised a gun towards her._

_Mirai shook her head. "I could never shoot anyone with a gun. Maybe from far away, in a Knightmare. But not when I can see their face."_

"_You'd be surprised what you can do," Ruki said, but lowered the gun. "Good luck."_

"_What is it about Ryuusuke, Ruki?" Mirai said hurriedly, as she saw the signal for her to get into her pod. _

"_I'll tell you later," Ruki said. "Goodbye."_

--

"What are you doing?" The voice said sharply. "Turn around."

Relenting, she slowly turned around with her arms raised. Her eyes slowly widened as she took in her captor.

"You!" She cried out, her voice strained with shock and anger.

"Me?" The Britannian boy said. This was, she realized with a jolt, The first time that she had ever heard his voice. It was a detached and guarded voice, she thought, to her surprise. "Do you know me?"

"You don't remember me?" Mirai said, disappointed despite herself. Of course, she reminded herself, Only she had thought so deeply about the confrontation. No doubt, to this cold boy, it had been an ordinary afternoon. But this time, she noticed, the boy was dressed in a Britannian pilot uniform: mostly in shades of grey, the top was a typical thin body armor, with wrist guards, and the pants were plain, with kneepads. "So you weren't a civilian after all," She said out loud.

"Stop talking," The boy said. "If you're not going to make any sense." Still outraged and slightly offended that the boy did not remember her, she let out an obscene curse, at which he looked at her with deep contempt. Mirai, for some odd reason, felt ashamed.

"Just kill me, and get done with," She spat, turning her head to emphasize her point. Then, she felt the cold gun touch her there again.

"Alright, then," The voice said. Eyes widening—she had not expected to take him seriously—she pulled back, staring him down with her narrowed eyes. The boy spun the gun with his fingers impatiently. She noticed that he regarded her as little threat; otherwise, he would not be playing with his gun. She wondered—what would he do to her? "What is it that you want, then?"

"I want Japan back," She growled, knowing fully well it was an impossible request.

"Not possible," He said, face still devoid of any emotion. There was little doubt that she would be caught, and become a prisoner of war. Or, she thought with a tingle of fear, she could even be executed. She shivered. God, she pleaded silently to the far above. If I do die, just let it be a quick death. Which means no torture. "What is your name?" The boy said. Startled at the question, Mirai told him her real name, forgetting that she was in enemy territory, where even her name could be used against her.

"Hazui Mirai." She said. She felt a little jump then, and felt a bit dazed. The boy was looking away from her now, seemingly preoccupied with something in his mind. But when she blinked, he instantly returned his attention to her. Feeling a little powerless, she said boldly, "It's common courtesy to share names. What's yours?"

The boy blinked, and then said, "Fenleigh." A typical, Britannian-sounding name, she thought to herself nastily. Then, she jumped, as she heard footsteps approaching. The boy, Fenleigh, also redirected his attention to the incoming stranger. Or perhaps it was a friend of his.

"Ho, there," A Britannian entered the scene, casually holding a small gun in his right hand. "What's going on?" He was wearing a typical black Britannian uniform, with a stupid little cap and a red tie.

"I was merely apprehending what I thought to be a member of the White Knights," Fenleigh said smoothly. He appeared to be a practiced liar.

"And is she?" The Britannian asked in a tired voice; he looked like he needed a good night's sleep with his permanent under-eye bags.

"No, she is an Honorary Britannian, working for us as a double agent." Fenleigh said, to Mirai's surprise. Choosing wisely not to deny it, she quickly nodded in agreement, stomping into pieces the little pride she had left. The Britannian glanced at her curiously.

"Using Japanese as spies against their own country?" He said doubtfully. "Not such a good idea, even if they are Honorary Britannians."

"Not this one," Fenleigh said swiftly. "Prince Leon himself backed this girl's name." The man whistled in awe, and gave her a look-over. Was Prince Leon one of the various princes of Britannia? She'd learned that there was a monarchy in Britannia, but she hadn't actually paid attention to the various members of the royal family. A fact, she reminded herself, That she would have to amend later. She would have to know exactly who she was dealing with if she was serious about defending her homeland, wasn't she?

"Could've done better," The Britannian grunted. Mirai felt strangely irritated—she'd thought that she would be beyond such inane comments by now, but it appeared that she'd been wrong. Your mother was an ape, she thought furiously. And your father was a porpoise. All extinct animals by now, but they still worked.

"Be careful what you say," Fenleigh said, noticing her anger. "I've heard rumors that Prince Leon has promised to execute anyone who harasses her." Mirai flushed red with outrage, and was grateful for the darkness that hid her face.

"I've never heard of such rumors," The Britannian muttered, but turned away from her. "Well. Time to go capture more of these so called 'White Knights', eh?" Despite the spark of fear that ran through her stomach, she let out a small sigh of relief. Suddenly, the Britannian twisted around, something sparking his attention.

"Who are you, anyways?" The man said curiously, stalking towards where Fenleigh stood coolly. Mirai shook her head in admiration; she recognized a master of the arts of lying, when she saw one. "What's your rank and name?"

"And why is that required?" Fenleigh inquired. The man motioned to Fenleigh's simple grey pilot uniform.

"I obviously outrank you," He smirked. Even in the dim light, Mirai could see the glaring difference in uniforms: If Britannian uniforms were assigned similarly to Japanese uniforms, the more rich and complex uniform outranked the less foppish ones. She'd seen those ridiculous magenta and golden uniformed Britannian officers flouncing around.

"And what is your name?" Fenleigh said, looking at the man square in the face. Mirai fought against the desire to roll her eyes; it appeared that the boy enjoyed knowing peoples' names. The man, obviously sharing in her sentiment, let out a bark of laughter and astonishment.

"Captain Setzer. So who are you?"

"Well, Setzer, how about you return to your duties and just forget about us?" Fenleigh said casually. Mirai tensed; such a snide comment was not going to make her situation any better. What in the world, she thought to herself furiously, Was this boy thinking?

But to her surprise, Captain Setzer shrugged. "Alright, then," He said, and marched away without further ado. She turned to stare at Fenleigh, who for some reason, did not look surprised.

"Are all Britannians like this?" She asked him curiously.

"Only around me," He said, and started laughing in a perplexing manner at such an odd reply.

"I have another question." Mirai said softly, and without waiting for an answer, plowed on. "Why do you fight for Britannia? When you know that Britannia is in the wrong?"

Fenleigh stopped laughing, and stared at her, with a thoughtful look growing on his face. "And why is Britannia in the wrong?"

"Disrupting peace and killing innocent people just to get more power is wrong." She said adamantly.

"It is," Fenleigh agreed.

"It is?" Mirai said, completely taken by surprise. "I mean—it is. So why do you—?"

"Because," He said simply. She could see it in his eyes, the truth. "Because I love Britannia."

"You love Britannia," A voice said, laughter carried far away by the wind. A small shadow merged with their own, as a boy with violet eyes appeared from the darkness.


End file.
